Cleopatra with a Gun
by wheeloffire
Summary: aka how boring it is when adults behave like adults. Emily is unsuspecting. JJ is poised - until she isn't.
1. Chapter 1

**Cleopatra With a Gun**

**DAY ONE**

Chapter 1

When ASAC Scully came for her, Prentiss was not expecting it. Scully stalked into the BAU office unapologetically. She ignored the stares and stopped at Prentiss's desk.

"Agent Prentiss? Would you please accompany me to Agent Hotchner's office?"

Prentiss hadn't seen her in years. Long before JTF-12, while still a young agent earning her investigative stripes, she and other agents in her branch office had been called to assist in the takedown of suspects identified by Scully and her partner, Fox Mulder. Scully had had redder, slightly shorter hair then, in a somewhat unforgiving bob hairsprayed off her face and into tractability. Prentiss had simply followed the orders of her immediate superior and it hadn't been an especially remarkable case from a junior agent's perspective. She'd put it aside in her memory, confident that it would not rear its head again. She hadn't had the time to follow either of their careers after that beyond noting from Bureau internal updates that Scully rose through the ranks and after a time, Mulder's name never appeared.

Prentiss had been one of many junior agents then. She had no reason to believe that Scully would remember her personally but this greeting implied the older agent recognized her. This meant that either Scully had a memory like Reid's or more likely, that she had read the personnel files and chosen Prentiss for whatever she had in mind ... and Prentiss was hardly going to find out what that was by staying here in the bullpen.

So she followed Scully, ignoring Reid and Morgan's curious and perturbed gazes and an uncharacteristically pissed-off look from JJ which she made a mental note to follow up on. As the two of them passed Rossi's room, he looked up and went carefully expressionless.

...

Inside Hotch's office, Scully began without preamble. "Agent Hotchner, I have a case that would benefit from the attention of a profiler. With your consent, I would like to consult with Prentiss on it."

"I can't readily spare her," Hotch replied without hesitation, "so unless she wants to help you, I won't order her to."

Prentiss had begun to shake her head but Scully turned her pale blue stare on her. "I didn't imagine this would be easy considering your history, but hear me out. The target is an international arms dealer ordinarily resident in Virginia. So far he's managed to keep his hands clean on US soil. No undercover work would be required of you, Prentiss, only the skills you exercise now. If we have to mount a sting, you won't be in the field but you would assist in planning and overseeing it and you would listen in on it and on the takedown, providing such guidance as you may. You're my first choice because unlike your colleagues, you already have experience of what participants in that trade are like. No other profiler in the Bureau would be as familiar as you with the spectrum of personalities and behaviour to expect of them."

She directed her cool regard at both of them impartially. Prentiss noted with detached envy that she was still a very attractive woman for her age. But though the hair was a softer look, she carried herself with more steely certainty than before. "It should be clear to you both that this is also a leadership-in-training opportunity. Prentiss, you have the seniority and the potential. Agent Hotchner, I imagine you can see the possible benefits for her and that you wouldn't want to hold her back."

_Smooth_, thought Prentiss. _An attack on both fronts: temptation for me, emotional blackmail for Hotch, and all as deadpan as Hotch himself._

"I'd like to discuss this with Agent Hotchner in private," she said. "One of us will revert to you by the end of business today. How do we get in touch with you?"

"We're on the Counterterrorism floor. I believe you know Agent Todd. She's on this op. If you agree, I'll have a desk set up for you but of course, your permanent posting, and therefore your permanent desk, will still be here. It should go without saying, but I'll say it anyway, that all this is need-to-know ... until it isn't. Agents." Scully nodded to them in farewell and left.

Prentiss looked at Hotch.

"She has a point, Prentiss. You deserve the opportunity for advancement I can't give you. We rarely carry out ops like that and when we do, I co-ordinate and lead them because in my position I must."

"I'm not looking to advance out of here!" Prentiss said with a note of outrage.

He held up his hand peaceably. "I know and I don't intend for you to go anywhere you don't want to. But consider the acquisition of additional skills, or reinforcement of existing skills you don't get to use here ... all of that will stand you in good stead. We never know what the future will bring."

He paused for a several seconds of thought, then waved at her to sit down. It had taken someone outside this unit to shake him out of his complacent belief in the status quo. Prentiss had been profiling for years in the field with JTF-12 before she came to the BAU. Morgan had come from SWAT and bomb disposal. So although he'd been with the BAU longer, Prentiss had as many years in profiling as he, just not here, and she had done a lot of that and a lot of behavioural analysis alone in the field under pressure. She was as senior as Morgan in service as a whole.

In hindsight, Hotch realized that Prentiss had been unofficially, mostly unconsciously, mentoring JJ and Reid from the very beginning. Morgan wanted people to lean on him and there was ego involved in that along with the loyalty and affection. Prentiss wanted the younger agents to stand on their own two feet, just better equipped for it than before she came along. Her instincts towards agents junior to her were those of a born leader.

And Morgan's reaction to her return, as well as Reid's, had been troubling Hotch ...

He said, "This is a good opportunity. My opinion, for what it's worth, is that you should take it. Scully had a rocky start but she's gathered for herself a formidable rep since she got out from being stuck with Mulder. You've said you hate politics but think of it as a chance to make a good friend who just happens to have rank. You'll learn things from her I can't teach you just because she's a different person with different experience. But as I said, I won't force you into anything you don't want to do and I'm going to hang onto you just as tightly as you want me to." He stood. "Stay in here if you like, and think it over. We'll talk again at four o'clock, since we have to give her a final answer before five."

He left. Prentiss drew the blinds between his room and the rest of the office and went to stare out of the window.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

An hour later a case came in and Hotch came to get her. He stayed in his office to make a call while Prentiss went to the conference room.

Everyone else had gathered and an expectant silence fell when she entered. She ignored it and took a seat, folding her hands neatly before her on the table. Across from her, Rossi lowered his eyelids in a slow, deliberate blink, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Hotch walked in and the briefing began. The case was in Ohio. Prentiss paid attention even though she doubted she'd be able to go. She was resigned to accepting Scully's request. She was no fool. She knew what this request possibly portended for her future and so did Hotch. But after her seven months away from work they were both aware that the Bureau wouldn't look kindly on a refusal. And she _was_ an FBI agent; it was her job to get bad people caught and Scully had a bad person to catch. People like Hotch and Prentiss who concentrated on substantive work rather than politics were essentially only reactive to political machinations affecting them; then they acted defensively, but they didn't do pre-emptive machinations themselves. So she would take the job and let the dice fall as they might. It was a small comfort that Scully didn't seem to be much of a politician either. She was being used, and probably well aware of it, to see how Prentiss performed outside the BAU now. However there was no help for it and things could be worse. Scully wasn't one to let the grass grow under her feet. She had come prepared this morning. She had been succinct and to the point, with not one word or one second wasted. Prentiss could work with someone like that.

Hotch ended the briefing, "We're waiting for the invitation to be extended by the local police. The higher ups are wrangling but I am told it is likely to come in about an hour or so. So wheels up in ninety minutes."

"Wait a minute," Morgan said. "What was that meeting this morning about?"

Hotch shot him a look. "Need-to-know only."

"What? Not _another_ secret!" Morgan exclaimed, angry enough to forget discretion. He had put aside his upset that Prentiss had walked out on them all and then been alive while he had mourned her for the better part of a year because he was so glad that she was back with them, but the trouble with issues being left unresolved is that they tend to come alive at the most inconvenient times. "This is a team! How many more secrets are you and Prentiss gonna keep from us?"

In a voice like cut glass, JJ intervened before Hotch could reply, "Morgan, the world does not revolve around you and your desire to know things."

"Yeah, says the one who's so good at keeping secrets," Morgan retorted. "How about what _we_ deserve, like team mates we can trust?"

JJ's hand slammed on the table. Everyone jumped.

"Do your mother and sisters _deserve _to feel betrayed because you keep your oath to keep our work confidential from them? _All_ of us took that oath, Morgan. It covers different things for each of us. Are you gonna accuse _me_ of betraying you because I don't tell you what I did at State? Who the _hell_ are you to insist that _any _of us should break our oaths, and possibly endanger others, just to satisfy _your_ curiosity? Why should we?Because Derek Morgan just _has_ to be the hero who just _has_ to be in the know and in on the takedown seeing as he's God's gift to the FBI?"

Everyone was too taken aback by the withering scorn emanating from the hitherto always mild-mannered JJ to react.

"When will you learn, Morgan," she went on, quietly livid now, "not to compromise team cohesion and morale by being sanctimonious about things outside your experience?"

Morgan opened his mouth but no words came out.

"When Emily went missing, you were the first one predisposed to see it as some sort of insult - that she thought you weren't good enough to protect her. Because of that one perceived slight to your ego, your loyalty just disappeared. Every time a question arose about Emily's motives, you took the worst interpretation and had to be talked out of it; no benefit of the doubt until you learned about Declan, as if he was the only thing that justified her actions. You don't know how many people she saved by completing that assignment!

You have no idea what it must have been like to be a lone woman without immediate backup, surrounded by a mob of vicious men, not knowing when the charade would end. You have no training or experience in undercover work. You don't know how many times this country has been saved by it. You don't know how many of its residents and citizens abroad have been saved by it. For all you know, your family's alive today only because Emily's assignment prevented guns from ending up in Chicago that might have used against them. Yet somehow you feel able to pass judgment on it, on all the patriots and heroes of this country who choose to pay the personal cost of doing it because ... what, because God appointed Derek _fucking_ Morgan the arbiter of universal morals and undercover work doesn't meet your precious middle class sexual mores? "

Morgan was beginning to take on a hunted look. It wasn't helping him that Hotch was making no effort to stop or correct his newest profiler, making his opinion all too clear.

JJ went in for the kill. "And the next time you want to hold it against any of us for keeping secrets, remember Carl Buford." Morgan paled. JJ didn't relent. "When your freedom, your career and your reputation were at stake, you made a _personal_ decision to make that case a whole lot harder for us to solve in order to preserve your own sanity, privacy and dignity. It was _not_ out of professional obligation. _We _never held it against you. So can you say the words 'double-barrelled hypocrite'?

What is it about wanting to keep your mother and your sisters alive that so needs your holy forgiveness? When your friend walked in alive instead of dead, why couldn't you just be happy? Because your pride was bruised? You weren't good enough to be let in on the secret? Well if you pride means more to you than your friends then by all means sit in your room and think what kind of a man that makes you. _We_ are the ones who combat injustice; we don't propagate it and we _definitely_ don't do it within the team. So get your ego out of your ass, Morgan, or I'll _really_ cut you down to size and I can promise you, you won't like the results."

Morgan already didn't like the result of incurring JJ's uncommon ire. He had wilted so completely that Prentiss could almost sense his testicles retracting. Even Garcia, usually his staunchest supporter, was keeping quiet and still.

Clearly JJ's time at State had taken her well out from under Morgan's wing and she wasn't planning on going back.

Across the table, Rossi stood up and gathered his things. "You know," he said quietly, "a whole generation of soldiers left this country for Vietnam believing that they were doing so to protect their country, their friends and their family. Half that generation came back to this country having lost their friends, their health, their limbs and half their sanity, to find their girlfriends had moved on, to find no work, no gratitude, no love. To see that kind of social injustice repeated on a private scale in my lifetime is more than I can stand." He nodded at Prentiss and JJ and left.

"Wheels up now in 75 minutes," was all Hotch had to say as he left the room with a jerk of his head at Prentiss.

…

Chapter 3

In his office, Hotch said briskly, "It's not four o'clock but I suppose we have to do this now since the team has to leave. Have you decided?"

"I'll do it," Prentiss said, now thinking it just as well to stay out from under Morgan's feet for a little while. "But that means I can't get on the jet. Scully will want me to be read in and meet her team ASAP. I'll stay in touch with the case through Garcia and help as much I can over the phone. Once I get an idea of what my schedule with Scully's lot will be like, I'll let you know. But I suspect that as I'm the only profiler on her team, she'll need me to prioritize her project over our normal caseload." Scully was also senior to Hotch. She hadn't pulled rank but she could have. Still it would have been churlish to say so out loud to a man who was just as aware of it as she was; a man who, on Prentiss's behalf, had for months put himself out and risked his relationship with team members he had worked with far longer than he had worked with her.

Hotch nodded. "Do that then. Pass off your consults to the others when you must." He paused and gave her a look. "I know you won't tell me to make sure things between JJ and Morgan get dealt with, even though you won't be there to patch up my leadership failings behind the scenes."

Prentiss flushed scarlet.

"I can learn, too," he pointed out with a flash of sardonic humour. "Have a word with JJ before sending her in here, please. Then you can go see Scully. And Prentiss, don't let Scully push you around. She's consulting _you_, remember."

...

Morgan was in his room, the one that had been JJ's, looking so hangdog through the blinds that Prentiss didn't see how it could be productive to start a conversation now. She rapped gently on the window and waved solemnly in passing to let him know she was still talking to him, but didn't wait around to force him to muster up a reaction.

JJ wasn't in the bullpen but her go-bag was on her desk. Reid said, "She's cooling off in the conference room."

Prentiss turned to head there but Reid stopped her with big pleading eyes. "Emily," he began, "I know I've been an ass but you have to know how glad I am that you're here and not dead. I mean, you _do_ know that, right?"

"Yeah," Prentiss said affectionately. "If I didn't, I'm certainly convinced now."

"So ..." he went on nervously, "... the main trouble I'm having now is with JJ lying to my face for months, because I know I shouldn't be angry about it and yet I still am. I don't want to be any more of an ass but she and I have been such good friends for so long and I trusted her so much."

Prentiss thought about that. "Well, try this hypothetical. A big guy in a black balaclava rushes up to you with a bloody cleaver. You're unarmed and babysitting Jack. The big guy asks you, 'Is that that bastard Hotchner's son?' Is it immoral to lie now? Would you lose sleep at night if you told him no?"

Reid was quiet for a few long moments. Then his face cleared. "I see ... Morals, situational they are." He blinked at her hopefully.

Prentiss laughed in incredulous delight. "Oh well _done_, Reid!"

He smiled back a bit proudly. There was hope that he wouldn't be eternally inept socially, among nerds at least.

Prentiss leaned against the nearest desk and went on kindly, "Spencer, while Doyle was alive the FBI didn't have infinite resources to mount indefinite guard over Morgan's mother and sisters in Chicago who go to different places throughout the day, _and _over _your_ mother in Vegas _and _over Jack and Jessica and Beth. Remember Doyle was a _family_ annihilator. He had snipers. He wouldn't even have needed particularly good ones to get at any of you or your families. All of you had your hands full with case work and your minds and eyes couldn't be preoccupied sweeping rooftops and windows and passers-by wherever you went all the time. This could have gone on indefinitely. JJ and Hotch trust you implicitly. They just didn't want you to have to live a life of deception. Even if you can flawlessly put on an act for the time required to talk a perp down, they didn't want you to have to live against your nature 24 hours a day for goodness knows how long. It went against JJ's nature too, you know, to have had to do that to you."

Reid looked his hands. "I suppose ..."

Prentiss regarded him worriedly. "So do you think you'll be OK with her now? Do you see that there's nothing for her to apologize for? Life just happens and sometimes it makes us do what we need to do whether we like it or not and then other people also have to pay the piper when they don't deserve to. I'm sorry that Hotch and JJ protecting me led to you having difficulties, enough to drive you to the brink. You definitely didn't deserve that. But even less would you have deserved any guilt if you had been let in on it and that put your mother in danger. Doyle was a driven psychopath with no compunction about causing suffering and death. What if he had taken your mother, tortured her, to put pressure on you to tell him where I was? What would it have done for your sobriety then?"

He nodded and his eyes went slightly unfocused, the way people look when they are adjusting internally to their new reality. Prentiss quietly left him to it.

...

JJ let Prentiss into the conference room. She was still a light pink and breathing perceptibly, indicating that her temper was still up.

"I wanted to thank you for stepping in there," Prentiss began delicately. "That was an impressive argument you constructed."

JJ pinked up more. "Because it was all true. It's all right that you feel regret because they suffered so much sorrow when they thought you had died, but you shouldn't feel _remorse_ because you did nothing wrong and it's just been getting on my nerves that they're indirectly encouraging you to think you should."

"JJ, you are a woman in a million." The distinction was so obvious now that JJ had made it; Prentiss hadn't seen it before and she realized now the absolute justice of it. She didn't know what she had done to deserve a friend like this but she was so very glad that whatever it was, she had done it. In her relief at realizing why she'd felt apologetic without really having done anything wrong, she grinned unreservedly. "Though why do I get the feeling you've been saving all that up for a nice long rant?"

JJ threw up her hands. "Because I have and I didn't realize it until then? I love Morgan but sometimes ... sometimes his male ego _really_ makes my tits ache!"

"Oh, whoa, hey, hey! You were defending me. I'm the last person to whom you need to justify yourself." Prentiss had to laugh. "You can air your grievances privately to me anytime."

She tried not to over-emphasize 'privately' because she was grateful to JJ and because few people respond well to a lecture, but it was actually her main goal in this conversation. Hotch hadn't stopped JJ and that had implied to everyone that he agreed with her: Prentiss could only think it was because he had suffered the same sense of recrimination from Morgan and Reid. But if JJ developed a tendency to whale on team members when others were present, it would be as destructive to team dynamics as she had pointed out Morgan could be; then Hotch would _have_ to pull her up and Prentiss didn't want that for her. She was trying to help JJ get back on balance.

"Anyway, I just wanted to check in before you all go flying off into the sunset."

"You're not coming?" JJ's disappointment was palpable.

"If I can I will, but it's unlikely. I'm so sorry. I'll miss being out there. I've lost so much time with all of you already. I just ... have a very bad guy to stop."

Into JJ's eyes there crept a horrified, haunted look Prentiss didn't like to see at all. "You're leaving again?" Her voice was suddenly thin and high.

"No! Not at all! This is a _consult_, not a secondment or transfer," Prentiss clarified hastily and pulled JJ into a brief sideways hug. She was glad to see that look had disappeared when she let go, but JJ still clung to her shirt momentarily so she went on, "Ops guidance only. I'll still be with this team, just not physically all of the time. In fact, given that they'll need me to be available for them, you guys will be in more day to day danger than I because you'll be in the field while I'll probably just be moving up and downstairs between them and here. I'm staying on top of every case this team gets so far as I can so you can talk to me, OK? About anything, as always. I am absolutely not leaving, JJ."

JJ nodded, reassured.

"By the way, is there some reason you don't like Scully?" Prentiss asked, veering off into lightness as she remembered JJ's pissed-off look that morning.

"Oh, is that her name? No, why? I don't even know who she is."

Both Morgan and JJ's SOP would have been to consult with Garcia and pull up background on the stranger. Prentiss wondered why they hadn't but she wasn't about to poke the bear. "No reason. I just thought you looked ticked off with her, but I was preoccupied wondering why she was here so I must have made a mistake about that. Listen, I have to go see her and you have to go see Hotch; he wants you for something. Stay safe, you hear?"

"I have every intention of that," JJ replied. "I happen to have a lot to live for."


	3. Chapter 3

**DAY 2**

Chapter 4

On Tuesday morning Prentiss hunkered down in a surveillance van parked some little distance from Scully's target's residence.

The FBI had a thin file on James Tripp, courtesy of the CIA. Since Tripp had done nothing illegal in the US, Interpol had no reason to notify the FBI about him formally. Interpol is supposed to liaise with law enforcement organisations, which the CIA is not. But of course, people know people. So Interpol's people had informally gossiped about Tripp to friends who 'happened' to have ties to the CIA, in the hope that his country would find a way to stop him, because Interpol itself has no powers of arrest. (JTF-12 had been an exceptional kind of information gathering tool but no one on it had arrested anyone - it was the police in his country of residence, Italy, who had arrested Doyle, acting on information and evidence provided with the assistance of JTF-12, and they were able to do that because Doyle had committed crimes against Italian law on Italian soil.)

The CIA had then done its job, intelligence gathering outside the US. The people Tripp talked to or was rumoured to have dealt with were political soft-handed types with the sort of standing which meant extraordinary rendition or rough treatment would have caused an embarrassing stink and might have alerted him to their unwelcome interest. So the CIA's operatives had had lots of very quiet, very civilized drinks with these people instead. As a result, it was now known, more off the record than on, that Tripp kept records mostly in his head, did not have a regular crew because he functioned a lot of the time as a broker, and was only occasionally anywhere near the goods himself. He had bank accounts in places where banking secrecy was still optimal and patiently funnelled small amounts at a time to his US bank account, amounts below reporting level.

No one had been brazen enough to admit to an actual transaction with him. However all recent interviewees concurred that while speaking to him for 'other reasons', he'd told them that he wouldn't be available for a while. One or two of them, who were reputed to be regular customers, had been told he had a huge deal in prospect. No details were known but the CIA believed that this deal would be in clear violation of the Arms Control Export Act, making Tripp susceptible to arrest by the US even if every stage of the deal was conducted outside the US. They wanted to catch him _in flagrante_ with the goods, or witness a transaction being discussed. And if he was responsible for arms being delivered to any enemy of the US, they could take him to Gitmo.

So the CIA had asked the Bureau to do what it could to find out more within the borders of the US. There was no known involvement of any identified party inimical to the US, so the FBI had classified the case as a criminal matter, not an intelligence one, which was how it had landed on Scully's desk instead of in the Intelligence branch of the FBI.

The project, luridly named Flamethrower, wasn't the usual kind of case Prentiss dealt with these days. There was no crime within the US with evidence to follow and witnesses and victims to interview. There might be a cross-border crime in _prospect_ but their grounds for believing it amounted to little more than gossip on the international circuit. Many of the legal powers of investigation usually wielded by the law enforcement branches of the FBI were not invoked, hence the confidential nature of Scully's operation. No one wanted to throw the book out the window but they couldn't go strictly by it either.

SOP in these cases involved undercover work and surveillance. Long distance surveillance was being carried out, but Tripp had no known organisation to infiltrate. Therefore during their long meeting the previous day, they had resolved to search Tripp's house. What they might find could not be used in court since the search would not be lawful, but it would give them a starting point and there was every likelihood that the future would bring a legitimate way of documenting anything useful that might found today.

Now Prentiss watched the monitors on the team's headcams. Scully had put her foot down on Prentiss going in with the team because of what she had effectively promised Hotch. Instead, Prentiss was to analyse the house from a profiler's perspective through her view from the monitors and from the photographs the team would take.

In the van with her were Scully and Per Lündgren, Flamethrower's tech guy. Unlawful hacking of Tripp's Outlook calendar by Per had revealed that he would be with his banker this morning and the team had inserted as soon as he had driven off. It didn't take long – an hour or so, and that was only because the team had to take care not to leave any trace of their passing.

Back at the office, the team started dividing up what they had found. Per sighed as he worked on the cloned hard drive. "It's password protected."

Prentiss had been looking at the photos of the house - the images on the monitors in the van had come and gone too quickly - but now she looked up as everyone gathered around Per.

"Is there a limit to the number of tries you get?" Scully asked.

"No," Per said. "He's not _that_ computer literate. It's probably why he does a lot by phone and in his head. But the password could be anything. We could be trying forever."

He tried the names and important dates connected with Tripp, his ex-wife, Samantha, and their eleven year old daughter, Cassie, who lived with her mother. No joy.

The team had found a couple of burner phones and cloned them but they were also password protected. And in all probability, there'd only be one or two numbers at most – of _other_ burner phones. The most useful thing that might come from the time or effort to crack them was the country or area code of those other numbers. The team didn't know how much time they had and had to use it wisely. The hard drive was the obvious choice to concentrate on.

The Flamethrower files contained surveillance photos from before Prentiss had come on board. She had studied them last night and now scrabbled through them again, remembering an oddity she had noticed.

"Per, can you enhance this photo?" She handed it over.

"Sure, any special part or the whole thing?"

"The watch," Prentiss said. "Look at his clothes. You'd expect someone who dresses like that to wear something like a Patek Philippe. Not _that_."

"It looks like a Swatch!" Jordan said incredulously.

Per worked. As they watched the enhancement became better and better.

"It _is_ a Swatch," Prentiss said. She knew virtually nothing about Swatches, but of all the coincidences to occur, her friend Matthew had worn this precise model during their shared youth in Rome. Her nape prickled.

She flicked back through the surveillance photos and the photos of the house.

"Any idea how many characters the password is?" she asked.

"Eight," Per said. He'd multitasked, making continued attempts at other passwords without success.

Prentiss stared at the enhanced picture of the incongruous Swatch, a photo of Tripp roughhousing with the tomboy Cassie as they laughed hysterically, and then at a photo of Tripp's bookshelves. _Don't overthink it._ "Try 'Aligheri'," she said.

He typed it in as she spelled it. It worked.

Everyone stared at her.

Prentiss said with tense urgency. "What's on the drive?"

"Wait," Jordan said. "How the hell?"

"Indeed we may need to know that ..." Scully said, "... later. Prentiss is right. We need to divide up the contents of the hard drive. We could well be running out of time, people."

...

Much later in the day, Scully asked, "Prentiss, what can you tell us about him?"

"He's not a psychopath," Prentiss replied. "He's very detail-oriented and his prodigious memory helps him with remembering the i's he must dot and the t's he must cross. His home is really quite innocuous in the sense that no visitor could tell just from looking at it what he's up to. Possibly it's partly because, as surveillance has shown, his daughter visits him there. But even in his study the decor is all about books and intellectual games, not a single thing that would remind anyone of war is in the open. He distances himself from what the goods he delivers will do in the hands of end-users. He doesn't even have a gun-safe and the blueprints correspond to the dimensions we saw. So no hidden armoury. No military background either. So he's more the commercial, professorial type than the gun-toting ex-soldier type. I'm curious about how he even got into the business."

"So takedown shouldn't be a problem?"

Prentiss grimaced. "Cornered animals will fight. Ordinarily I'd expect someone like him to use brains, words and money, not force. But this takedown will be of his whole life; it won't be ordinary to him. He _does_ have a licence to carry."

"Well, at the moment we still have nothing yet," Scully noted. "Leave that truckload of French emails alone. We have translators and your time is better spent doing other things. Like joining Agent Hotchner for a day or so until we get the English translations typed up. You can even take a copy of the emails if you want bedtime reading - just be aware that isn't your primary job. Be back Friday."

It was true. Nothing else had proved noteworthy and they were stuck waiting to read these emails. There was nothing Prentiss could usefully do here right now except the translations. Given the option, she was all too glad to phone Hotch to ask if he wanted her in Ohio for a couple of days.

"Good, yes," he said. "Get here late tonight or first thing tomorrow and expense your travel. I'll send Rossi to pick you up or you can take a cab to wherever we need you."

**DAY 3**

Chapter 5

Much as she was coming to like the Flamethrower team, it was a happy Prentiss who arrived at the precinct in Ohio in the morning. When she entered the conference room, she was greeted with smiles all round. Morgan kicked out a welcoming chair for her. His smile was apologetic until she winked at him.

"Grown your balls back yet?" she whispered out of the corner of her mouth as she sat down.

He rolled his eyes and wagged his head slowly. "Oooowww ... laugh it _up_, Prentiss! You, me, drinks after we close this?"

She nodded and they turned their focus to the murder board.

Later she was glad to see him and JJ interacting without strain, like their normal selves, through the day.

...

By mid-afternoon, the unsub had become two known subjects and the BOLOs on them had been amended to include full details, including their names. Hotch was inclined to leave it at that. The local police were capable of taking the perps down once they were found. They now had the full profiles to assist in finding and prosecuting them. The BAU was better employed going home to work on desk consults or another case.

He was about to call it when the detective in charge of the case knocked and poked his head in. "Found 'em. They're holed up in an abandoned warehouse and the black-and-white that followed up the BOLO lead has been keeping watch, making sure they don't scram. We're raiding it with SWAT. The captain says that after all you've done, you're welcome to participate if you like."

Hotch shook his head. "SWAT will have full body armour so we'll leave it to them ... unless there are hostages?"

The detective shook his head.

"Then we'll just come to watch from the sidelines, in case you might need us at the last moment."

They drove to the warehouse in convoy and put on their vests as a standard precaution. As they watched, entry was made. Morgan nudged Prentiss and she followed his sightline to the nearest building in the compound to the warehouse.

"You think it should be cleared too?" she asked.

"Just a feeling," he said tensely.

Prentiss called Garcia, who started clicking at her keyboard almost before Prentiss had finished outlining their request. Prentiss put her on speaker and laid her phone on the bonnet of the SUV Hotch was leaning against.

"No connection on the blueprints, my heroes," Garcia reported a minute later. "But the shortest distance between the two buildings is only about fifteen yards. They could even have blasted a connecting tunnel which wouldn't show on the blueprints if they had the time and the skill."

"They could just have sneaked across before the posse showed up," Morgan murmured and Prentiss had to agree. The first black-and-white had been parked at the entrance to the compound to prevent egress from it, not to stop movement within it, which might well have gone unseen.

"The murders started a couple of months ago," JJ put in. "They needed a quiet place for the torture."

"They've been using this area all along," Hotch agreed. "They'd know the compound well. If they stayed in the warehouse SWAT will find them but that second building must be cleared too." He went forward to the SWAT commander and had a hasty whispered discussion with him. The lead detective was called over to join in.

Hotch came back. "SWAT's all in the warehouse and the police went in behind them. This one is ours. Everyone take five to study the blueprints."

Once they'd done that, he issued their marching orders. "Prentiss, Morgan, round the back. Dave, JJ, Reid, you're with me. We go in the front, then Dave and Reid go right, JJ and I left. If they're there, we herd them towards the back."

The team split as instructed. Hotch shouted the requisite identification and warnings and front entry was made. Less two minutes later two men hurtled out the back entrance. Prentiss and Morgan were lying in wait on either side of it as they blew past. Morgan hit the gun hand of the nearest perp with the butt of his own gun; the perp lost his firearm and Morgan had him.

Prentiss couldn't do the same because the perp nearer her had his gun in his far hand. She jabbed her gun barrel into his temple and told him to freeze. Instead he jerked away and tried to bring his gun up. _Oh, for fuck's sake! _ Prentiss had followed and now she jabbed her gun barrel again, this time into his throat, not hard enough to crush his windpipe but enough to set him choking and coughing. His hands reflexively went up to his throat. She had at least a few seconds before he was in any condition to aim at anything but his finger was still in his trigger guard so it seemed good to her at this time to step to the side and vent a little exasperation by introducing the toe of her boot meaningfully to his crotch. This immediately rendered him _hors de combat_ and Prentiss kicked his gun safely away before holstering her own and pulling out her handcuffs.

"And Prentiss and Morgan are back in the house!" Morgan yipped ebulliently. They exchanged a fist bump and a smile as the others came up.

...

Chapter 6

It was full dark by the time they were clear to leave. On the way back to their hotel to collect their things, a cyclist came out of nowhere and JJ had to swerve to avoid him, having no choice but to run her SUV onto the pavement. The driver's window shattered from the impact with a lamppost. No one was seriously injured but JJ had numerous small cuts all over her left hand and arm from when she'd shielded her eyes from the flying glass fragments. Hotch instructed Morgan and Rossi, who had been her passengers, to wait with her while paramedics attended to her and left them the other SUV.

After sending the chastened cyclist away with a blistering telling-off, he took Reid and Prentiss with him back to the hotel in a cab on the assumption that JJ would be most comfortable if one of those two packed her belongings. Hotch himself had been assigned a small suite which he shared with Rossi. The three of them waited there in the living area for the others. Rossi walked in first. He smiled at them and they all relaxed.

"She's in no danger, but some of the cuts were deeper than others so they administered a painkiller." Rossi reported. "She's not responding to it as one might have expected, though."

Prentiss frowned in concern. "Should we take her to the hospital?"

Rossi shook his head. "No, her vitals are fine and her colour's good. The paramedics weren't worried. She had some trail mix and Cheetos while we waited to leave the compound and they think this could be delaying the sedative effect a little. She's just cheerful instead of sleepy. She kept singing 'Old Macdonald had a farm' all the way here and laughing."

Prentiss smiled; JJ had probably been singing it with Henry recently. "So she's all right to fly home with us?"

Rossi nodded. "Looks like it."

"Tell Reid what they administered. He should be able to list the side-effects and contra-indications," Hotch advised. "Where is she anyway? And where's Morgan?"

"He's bringing her up here. He's lagging behind because she's sort of hard to manage and he doesn't want to hurt her," Rossi's smile widened.

In fact Morgan strode in a minute later with JJ tucked carefully under his arm. He was grinning affectionately down at her as she hummed a little song Prentiss didn't know.

Prentiss pushed a chair forward. "OK, let's get her sitting down."

At the sound of her voice, JJ's head popped up and she stopped humming. "Emily! So pretty!" she carolled. "I'm rhyming!"

"Yes, you are, and thank you," Prentiss said, her lips twitching. JJ had always been a happy drunk who only wanted a bit of humouring to be managed.

As Morgan shepherded her to the chair, JJ's head swiveled like an owl's to keep Prentiss in view. "Pretty face," she trilled. "Pretty ass too – just wanna ...," she stretched her hands out, fingers up and cupped, mimed squeezing, and wiggled her eyebrows, " ... kiss it all the time."

Morgan's surprised guffaw escaped before he looked away, his shoulders shaking. Rossi looked hard at the ceiling. Hotch looked at his hands. Reid looked at JJ, open-mouthed.

Prentiss didn't know _where_ to look. This was completely _un_like the drunk JJ she had known. She was too mortified to look at the men, and making eye contact with a filter-less JJ in full cry would, she feared, only be incitement to further verbal mayhem. She took care to stay well outside her drugged colleague's reach.

"On second thought, she obviously can't fly like this. Morgan, we should take her to her room. We haven't checked out yet. Maybe Reid or Rossi could stay with her to make sure she doesn't hurt herself. The sedative will probably kick in soon and she'll fall asleep." Prentiss's voice somehow stayed level despite her panic. Hotch didn't countermand her suggestion; presumably he wasn't about to risk the group's dignity when they had a warbling motormouth to wrangle onto the jet.

"Emmy!" JJ sang out brightly. "Emmy, Emmy, ... wanna date? Huh? Huh? I'd be such a _good_ girl for ya. _Such_ a good girl ..." She leered and giggled before confidentially whispering very loudly, "I'll do anything you like, you know, even anal! Whips and chains. Anything!"

_Oh my god, she's going to be so pissed at us tomorrow!_ Prentiss tried not to wring her hands. _And why the HELL does she think I'd like ... never MIND, Prentiss, focus!_ "Morgan! Now please!"

"Can't do it." His voice was strangled and he was doubled over. "My knees'll give way!"

"Morgan, if you don't want her _especially_ angry with you _again_ after this wears off, you'll get it together and move her downstairs," Prentiss hissed through gritted teeth.

He sobered quickly at that thought, but when he went to pick JJ up, she squealed, "No! Can't leave Emily! Need Emily!" She stretched her hand out imploringly and actually batted her eyelashes at a frankly terrified Prentiss.

Who knew how JJ would react if they were separated now? "I'll be with you," Prentiss assured her uneasily. "You won't be leaving me. We'll be fine and you can sleep."

"Pretty Em," JJ burbled on dreamily. Morgan had her in his arms now. She rested her chin on his shoulder, looking dotingly back at Prentiss. "Sweet, clever Em. Don' wanna sleep. Wanna look at you."

They were out of the suite now and Prentiss noted balefully that none of the others had followed. But two other guests were making their way towards the elevators as well.

"Stairs," Prentiss nearly shouted. "Double time, Morgan!"

He huffed but followed her sensible if desperate suggestion. She held the doors for him and they raced down to JJ's room to enthusiastic cries of "Giddy up!" and "Hi ho Silver, away!" from the all too cheerful and easily distracted blonde. Prentiss urgently fumbled the key card out of JJ's go-bag, glad she'd remembered to grab it and her own from the suite.

"There once was a woman named Emily," JJ serenaded her, "who knew how to swagger so sexily ..."

_Oh my GOD_, Prentiss screamed silently. _She'll kill us all!_ They surged into the room and Prentiss slammed the door shut.

"Her belt buckle's a sign ... that her fingers are _fine_ ..."

Morgan virtually threw JJ onto the nearest bed and ran for the door, choking on his mirth.

"And her tongue makes you scream with intensity!" JJ cheered, vastly pleased with herself.

Morgan honked a last blaring triumphant laugh and bailed out the door. It shut with a slam of finality.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 7

Hotch answered the quiet knock at the door at 7am to find Emily, slightly pale but clear-eyed and calm, with look of determined warning on her face.

He let her in and they took a seat at the table. Rossi came in and, at Emily's nod, joined them there.

"JJ's woken up and she's fine," Emily said, "but she doesn't remember anything about last night."

"Like a blackout hangover," Rossi mused.

Emily nodded and took a breath. "I don't think any of us should tell her about it in any explicit detail."

Silence.

"If JJ were twenty one and casually dating that might be one thing, but she isn't. She's a mature adult in a committed domestic partnership, committed enough for a child to have been born to it," Emily persisted. "Does either of you know whether, apart from last night, she's ever had any doubt that she's exclusively straight? Or whether she's been having doubts about her relationship with Will?"

Rossi shrugged and looked at Hotch, who had known JJ the longest of the three. Hotch slowly shook his head.

"So you don't know whether she's even acknowledged to herself the possibility that she's _not_ exclusively straight?"

Another headshake.

"Well, then I don't have to tell you the harm to her that can be done if that's forced on her when her mind isn't ready to accept it? Not to mention the harm to the family unit she has?"

The two serious older men said nothing but their look said they agreed.

"Hotch, you need to impress this upon Morgan especially. He likes to tease but he'd never want to be responsible for any of that. I'd do it but I haven't the time. I left while JJ was in the shower and she's expecting me to be there for breakfast." Emily stood.

"I can do that," Hotch said, "but you were the one she was principally talking to. Are you certain about this?"

"Attraction isn't the same thing as acknowledgement and even if she _is _aware of it, it certainly doesn't amount to consent for the two of us to try anything," Emily said. "There are all sorts of reasons why she wouldn't want to and it is her decision. If she doesn't want to do anything about this, we're not going to ram it down her throat."

"Yes, of course, but you realise that her attention was all on you, and she never once referred to Will?"

"He wasn't here to catch her eye," Emily said. "I was. That's probably why. I don't believe she and Will would have lasted this long and had a child together if her feelings for him weren't real. If it hadn't been for the drugs none of us would be any the wiser. They put JJ in an unfair position. We of all people can't use that against her. If she wants to break up with Will and pursue other options, it has to be a conscious and informed decision. It has to come from JJ or not at all. It's _her_ family. What we saw and heard last night was no decision at all. So you have to tell Morgan and Reid before they see or talk to her this morning."

Hotch nodded soberly. "Go on. We'll see you in the lobby in an hour."

...

**DAY 5**

Chapter 8

"So we have emails vaguely referring to a delivery of _something_ outside Rabat in Morocco on Monday," Scully opened the discussion.

"Better not be Tonka trucks," Jordan said. She was only half-joking and with a good reason. Morocco has no extradition treaty with the US so it was a catch-22. If the US wanted to be sure it had custody of Tripp they had to arrest him before he left the US – _before _the delivery. And if it was of something innocuous, they really _wouldn't_ have him. But if they didn't take the chance and simply notified the Moroccans as protocol dictated, and the Moroccans arrested Tripp with the shipment and it _was_ arms, he'd be lost to them.

"He's got a ticket to Casablanca," Per yelped as he frantically moved through screen after screen on his monitors. "Via Paris. He leaves tonight. And we cracked one of the burners – the number on it has a 212 country code."

Scully went to her office to telephone her superiors, the CIA and Interpol as they gathered up all the details they had into a proper file.

When she came back, she said, "Per, send whatever we've got to these email addresses. Subject heading is Operation Flamethrower." She handed him a slip of paper. "All right, people. Interpol and the CIA will talk to the Moroccans about busting the shipment. We're taking the chance and detaining Tripp on suspicion before he leaves our jurisdiction. Our bosses think if he's going all the way there, it won't be Tonka trucks."

She gave Jordan a wry look at that before continuing, "The emails are nothing without context but if the Moroccans get the shipment they _will _have context. So the emails will then tie it to Tripp and we'll have him. We'll see if the final destination of the shipment can be tied to AQAP. If so, the CIA will take him to Gitmo. If not, we try him under the Arms Export Control Act right here."

"When and where should we detain him?" Prentiss asked, hoping that she wouldn't have to sit _this_ out.

"Away from home ground," was the pithy reply before Scully elaborated. "When he leaves for Paris, we'll get him on the road before he hits a highway. We'll get the surveillance on him tightened up immediately, then we need to brief the takedown posse."

Déjà vu. Prentiss had caught her first sight ever of Scully as part of the 'takedown posse' Scully had briefed all those years ago. She hurried after the rest of the team.

"Prentiss, don't tell me, you want in on the takedown, right?"

"Yes," Prentiss nodded. "Well, I'd at least like to be there."

Scully sighed. "Well, I suppose it was implicit that you _would_ be there. BUT ..." she pointed a steady finger at Prentiss, "you are NOT getting injured _again_, not on my watch. You _will_ wear your Kevlar and, qualified field agent or not, you will stay BACK unless I call for you. I don't break promises, especially those made to fellow agents."

Prentiss knew better than to argue. Scully was aware she'd been near death less than a year ago, that there could well be physical and/or mental effects still, whatever her psych evals said, and she didn't know her as well as Hotch did. Prentiss would have to prove she was all right by doing but she didn't resent that. In Scully's place, she would have done the same.

...

The takedown plan was textbook and simple. They would watch for Tripp to leave. If he took a cab, they would take him at the airport dropoff. If he drove himself, they would cut his car off before he got anywhere near high volume traffic.

In the event, he drove himself. They intercepted him, blocking him in before he even got out of the suburb his house was in.

He knew what it was about: he stayed put in his car and refused to come out. They couldn't tell if he was armed, but he dealt in weapons. It was reasonable to believe it was possible that he had something dangerous to hand.

Prentiss had obediently hung back and was next to Scully as they watched the scene. Scully said, "We'll get one of the sharpshooters to wing him. I'm not risking anyone on an approach like this and we need to be quick. He could be on his phone cancelling the delivery right now."

"No, wait. Let me talk to him," Prentiss urged. "If a shot gets fired, we risk escalation. If you wing him, he might duck down and because we don't know if he has anything lethal with him, we can't approach; we'll have to shoot up the car. The likelihood is that he'll end up dead and he might not be the only one."

They wanted him alive. They wanted the full list of his previous buyers and what he had provided them. They wanted to know who had approached him as a potential buyer. They wanted to know who had supplied him and with what.

There was movement from Tripp's car. As they watched, he emerged holding something no one was happy to see.

"Well, what do you know, he _does_ have something lethal," Scully murmured.

_Hell and damnation! _Prentiss thought. He had an RPG and it was pointing towards a nervous cluster of men and women in Kevlar. Fat lot of good torso covering would do against that and they knew it. Despite her words, she had in truth expected no more than a handgun. Tripp was in his car, the one he drove his _daughter_ in. And he never did anything dangerous on US soil. So why the _hell_ did he keep an RPG in there, presumably under a false floorboard?

Prentiss's mind raced. If he _had_ cancelled the shipment, they had nothing. They would detain him on suspicion but they'd eventually have to let him go. So _why_ would he do this? With an RPG on his shoulder, they didn't even need the shipment anymore. This scene was already a crime in itself. There was no way this was reasonable self-defence.

Panic, she thought. He had been taken totally by surprise and had never planned for this. He'd been so squeaky clean in the US that he hadn't anticipated his own country taking him down on US soil. He dealt with politicians and accountants, and he had classical literature on his bookshelves. He was a man of thought, not a man of action. And quite possibly he hadn't had time both to cancel the shipment _and _jiggle that damned RPG out of its hiding place. All right, there was no absolute certainty about any of that, but there was enough to gamble, and there _was_ absolute certainty that if he pulled that trigger, even if he died, so would others.

"Let me _talk _to him!" she said again, urgency in every syllable. "If he fires, it won't matter whether he gets shot. We'll lose people. Please! You have me for a reason."

Scully took a second to weigh it in her mind. Prentiss waited in wretched suspense.

"Use a megaphone. And stay out of his direct line of sight."

"I can't!" Prentiss said. "Nothing that will persuade him to stand down will be said effectively over a megaphone. He hears it and he won't listen. He needs to hear an undistorted human voice and I need to look him in the eye. We have to hurry! He's not normally violent, remember. He's mostly a broker. This is panic, pure and simple. He's not thinking and he'll pull that trigger any second."

"Go!" Scully said. She didn't hesitate anymore but her voice was heavy with misgivings.

Prentiss went, feeling Scully following behind, not a leader who sent people where she wouldn't go herself. She sensed that if Tripp pulled the trigger, she'd probably be going down immediately under Scully's weight. That didn't make her feel better.

She edged her way to the front. Because of the time allowance required for airport security checks, Tripp had left home while it was still light. Prentiss had no difficulty seeing him. She tried not to think about the fact that he, too, would have no difficulty seeing her to aim at.

"James?" she called. "My name's Emily. Can I talk to you? No one will shoot while we're talking."

"Talk?" There was an edge of hysteria in his rising voice. Yup, she'd been right, he was panicking all right. Counter-intuitively, her confidence rose. "What the hell is there to talk _about_? You want to kill me or take me away!"

"We _don't_ want to kill you, James," Prentiss said. "Will you let me come a little closer so we don't have to shout at each other? Just me."

Scully tensed. Prentiss ignored that.

"For all the good it will do," he jeered. Prentiss could see him perspiring.

She took a few careful paces forward. "James," she said, "if you stand down now, no one here will be hurt, including you. You have to think of Cassie."

"I _am_!" he shouted. "You want to take me away from her! You think she'll want to see me in an orange jumpsuit?"

"She's only eleven, James. She doesn't care what your clothes are. She's not going to understand if you do this. She's going to need her father around for years to come. Even if she has to visit you in less than ideal circumstances, you will be _there_." He shook his head violently. He wasn't listening. Prentiss let her voice become lower, more conversational, less argumentative. "She gave you that watch, didn't she?"

Startled by the sudden change in tone and topic, James's eyes flicked fleetingly towards his wrist.

Prentiss said, "It's a Swatch, right?"

He said nothing but he was watching her, paying attention. He was still a desperate man and a suspicious one, but he was beginning to not _just_ be panicking now.

Prentiss pushed on. "It has a line in Italian on its face. '_Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita_ ...' Doesn't it?"

James's face was pinched with tension and confusion. "How ... how do you know that?"

"You know that line, don't you?" Prentiss pressed. "The book is on your shelf. You don't speak Italian but you are very, very fluent in French. That's the language you read it in: '_Au milieu du chemin de notre vie_'... It's the first line of _De l'Enfer_. 'In the middle of the journey of our life ...' The strap has angels above the face of the watch and demons below it. The face of the watch is in the _middle_."

James stared at her. She definitely had his attention now.

"That's where you are right now, James. In the middle. That watch is an old model. Cassie found it for you, didn't she? A man like you wouldn't know about Swatches but Cassie's a kid. A kid would know Swatches. Somehow she saw a picture or heard it described. And then she searched for it. Didn't she? She searched for it, especially for you. Because she's a _good_ kid and she knew you'd love it. Maybe you read the book while she was on your lap when she was little. Maybe you did that a lot. How _long_ did she search, James?"

Her voice rose to an imperative on the question. As she had hoped, he had been following her and, lulled by that, he now responded, as much to the voice as the question.

"Two ... two months," he said brokenly. "The sellers were all in Europe. It took her two months to find a seller who would deliver to the US. I had to help her but it was her idea." She could hear the pride underlying his panting bravado. Nearly there. She hoped.

"So she searched for_ two months_ to find that for you, James. You _know_ most kids her age forget a song ten _minutes_ after they've heard it. It's not even an expensive watch, is it, James? It doesn't fit your wardrobe. But you wear it all the time because you know its worth is not measured by its monetary value."

A caesura, just enough time to let him absorb the fact that there was someone else who understood it, understood that he was not _just_ a man who sold guns. "You're a man, a father, who knows what's beyond price. Do you really want to tell Cassie that what's beyond price isn't worth staying around for? You really think she doesn't need you to be there? You, on whom she spent two months searching for something that was just right? Just right for _you._"

Another pause. She measured out three seconds, giving him time to think just a little, to calm just a little more. Still a natural pause, nothing to re-awaken suspicion. "You are in the middle now so make your choice, James. Make the right choice. Make it for _her_."

James Tripp did nothing for a moment but Prentiss already knew from the slump of his shoulders that she'd done enough. He wasn't a man who'd planned in advance to commit suicide by cop. Sense was re-asserting itself. He had just needed a little push.

Slowly he lowered the nose of the RPG. It slid off his shoulder and he let go with first one hand, then the other, letting it clatter to the ground, and Jordan was there, gently drawing James's arms behind him to cuff him, respectfully despite the nature of the action. One of the posse hurried to the weapon to make sure it was safed.

Prentiss felt a small kernel of tension in her chest give way. She hadn't been feeling at the top of her game since coming home. This was by no means a major achievement, not like, say, talking down a suicide bomber hellbent on the glory of martyrdom, nowhere near Gideon's masterful manipulation and outwitting of Jind Allah on her very first case with the BAU, but still ... she could feel it now. She was all the way back.

She'd lowered her own sidearm when she began to speak and now holstered it thankfully. Her knees felt weak. Scully gave her a measuring look, a single nod, and then moved off.

...

**END OF PART 1**


	5. Chapter 5

**PART 2**

Interlude

Homeward journeys on the jet were a good time for introspection. JJ stared out the window, secure in the knowledge that no one would disrupt her train of thought beyond a question about plans for the evening.

Emily was in London, had been for some time now. There was still a mournful flavour about the team. It was downplayed for Alex's sake: they liked her and she filled out the team competently. 'Replacement' was just not a word that seemed to come to anyone's mind about her. But they had all seen the way that Emily had bounced miraculously back the 'professional' part of the way while her personal re-settling had seemed to take a pause that didn't end. Everyone had hated to see her leave but no one begrudged her the decision to go.

It had worked too. According to Garcia, who had been to visit her, Emily was now doing as well as her occasional emails and text messages seemed to indicate. She had found her new normal and was dealing comfortably with cases all over Europe.

JJ was feeling a bit of envy for Emily's current colleagues. Emily had always been such an impressive operator, contained and present and steady.

The young JJ had learned a lot from Hotch, Morgan, Gideon and Elle but she had never looked upon them as role models. Their personalities were too different from hers. Even if she had wanted to imitate them, she would have ended up ridiculously _not_ herself. But then Emily had come along and the mammalian throwback part of JJ's hindbrain had recognized that here was a senior agent who showed her what she herself could be with time and seasoning, how to be compassionate without compromising her own stability, how to be assertive without being shrilly aggressive.

Professional admiration had become virtual idolization with the Hankel case. When Morgan had essentially thrown a tantrum and blamed JJ, Emily had found a way to make JJ continue feeling productive, to allay her doubts in herself and have some control over the situation going forward. She'd done exactly the same thing for Carrie Ortiz later on, allowed her to feel productive and find some resolution to the terrible deaths of her entire family - only JJ hadn't recognized the parallel at the time and now regretted, not disagreeing because that had been valid if not as good as Emily's choice had been, but the disapproval with which she had expressed that disagreement.

Emily never lost her focus, never got distracted from her ultimate professional purpose while dealing with people effectively in the subtlest of ways. When Garcia had been shot and was still recovering from surgery, the still-new Emily's fleeting apologetic quirk of an eyebrow when she was pressing Garcia for the name of her attacker was what had made her question acceptable, what had stayed any indignation and made Garcia able to answer.

Hotch and Gideon hadn't seemed like they would be generous in categorizing what constituted professional weakness. Being so stiff and stifled themselves, so on the edge, they made it seem that expressing any kind of emotional reaction, even when they weren't nutting out a profile or executing a takedown, even after a case was over, was somehow professionally weak, as if they would only ever approve of agents as zombified as they themselves acted. They _said_ it was all right to care up to a point but it came across like a socially acceptable motivation for what was really an addiction to the work. They had played off each other but no one had realized that until long after, when in Gideon's absence, Hotch's tendency towards robotism had decreased. JJ had gone for years wondering if they found her acceptable only because she wasn't a profiler herself, doubting that she herself could be a profiler if being like them was the end game – until Emily had come and been as adult as they but not as unapproachable, had been confidently human without apology.

JJ had matured and become not harder but wiser and tougher just by following Emily's example. It was her experiences in the Middle East, away from the gentling influences of Garcia and Emily and Reid, that had given her whatever hardness she had today.

She didn't mind that, really. People grew up. She had _wanted_ to grow up. But there was no escaping the fact that all that hardness wasn't helping her _not_ miss Emily, and not just at work. She missed her when she and Garcia went shopping or out to lunch or dinner. There were times when she was sitting watching TV at home and felt bored and wished Emily were around to call out for a drink. Conversations with Emily, especially in person when you could watch her subtle changes of expression and faint twitches of amusement, were so interesting, even titillating, because she would hint and tease before eventually letting some fascinating tidbit or story fall from her lips.

Was it normal to miss a friend so much? To want to ditch peaceful family time and go have fun with her for an evening instead? JJ never felt like that about Garcia: she was happy with the time she had with Pen but she never wished for her in lieu of family time.

Geez, JJ , she told herself at last with an eye-roll, get over yourself. Go forward, face the day.

Still, Emily certainly made a hell of a lasting impression.

...

Chapter 9

"Pen, what're you looking at?" JJ peered in the direction Garcia's eyes were trained.

"That's Emily!" Garcia whispered excitedly.

They were having dinner in a quiet bistro in DC. Emily had come back from London a couple of weeks ago at Hotch's request to help out in his absence, to everyone's great satisfaction. At the moment things were relatively quiet for the BAU and they had the weekend off for once, like normal people. Garcia had mooted the idea of dinner and Emily had agreed but then begged off at the last moment, saying she needed to meet a friend on short notice.

Undeterred despite feeling a bit let down, JJ had left Henry with Will and come to meet Garcia and they had walked into the first place they liked the look of.

Now she too saw what Garcia had spotted. In the rear corner Emily sat with a slightly exotic looking woman. They were sitting at a right angle to one another, each with her back to a different wall, but their heads were bent slightly towards each other as they conversed intently.

"It could be a date ..." Garcia mused. "They're dressed for it."

"She said she was meeting a _friend_," JJ said. "They're dressed for dinner at a place like this. Like we are. Why would you think it's a date?" Her voice was tight because Garcia's innocent suggestion had caused a wholly unexpected and unwelcome dismay to arise in her. She couldn't bring herself to apply a profiler's eye to the pair in the corner.

Garcia was still watching them. "Well ... I've never thought about it seriously, but it wouldn't surprise me that Emily _would _date a woman," she said thoughtfully. "And this one's _really_ pretty."

"Still doesn't mean it's a date," JJ pointed out. "And isn't there that Marc fellow in London?"

Garcia shrugged. "Who knows what the state of their relationship is now? If they even still have one? I just meant that I would imagine to Emily, a woman would be just as acceptable as a man."

"Bit of a jump there," JJ muttered, still crotchety for no apparent reason.

"Don't see why. Not these days."

"Yes, that might be true for many people," JJ said, "but it doesn't follow that you're right about Emily in particular or on this occasion."

"It's ... just the suggestion of intimacy about them ..." Garcia said. She watched them a little longer before swinging back to face JJ. She blinked. "What on earth's wrong?"

"What?"

"Jayje, you look ill." Garcia's concerned gaze swept over her.

"I'm not," JJ said. "There's just something about this ..." She poked accusingly at her dish of paella. "It's not agreeing with me even though when I started on it, it seemed really good." She put her fork down. "I'll stop eating it." But she didn't want to leave just yet. "If you don't mind, I'll just pause for a while. I'll be in the mood for dessert soon."

"Sure," Garcia said. "Do you need to go throw up?"

JJ smiled weakly. There wasn't actually anything wrong with the food. "Nah, it'll settle."

...

In the corner of the room the conversation was proceeding.

"We are being observed."

"I am aware," Emily said. "The two of them are members of my team. We're all old friends. They arranged to have dinner tonight and I cancelled on them to meet with you. It's pure coincidence that they're here since I made no reservation: they couldn't have found out and engineered this. It would attract more of their curiosity if we left to avoid them. How are you, David?"

"Well," her companion flashed a smile. "I am a full NCIS agent now. There is no need to manufacture a story for your friends. Besides, I would rather they did not shoot me if I have to pull a gun in their presence in future." The smile vanished. "I was glad to hear that Doyle was killed."

Emily shrugged. "You can't possibly be gladder than I am."

The response was an unladylike snort. "There were times I wish he had upset Mossad. They would have despatched him outside the US in ways you would not approve of but so much faster therefore."

Emily's smile was wry this time.

"You are okay here? Now?"

Emily nodded. "Not doing that sort of thing again. Is there a specific reason you wanted to see me?"

"NCIS is after a group of people for intelligence and criminal reasons. They are not, strictly speaking, your concern. What _is _your concern that my team will be away on an op for a couple of weeks. During that time, I believe Mossad will send assets to ... pre-empt NCIS's actions regarding this group. We do not wish them to succeed."

"You want those assets stopped in your absence. But that isn't the BAU's bailiwick. Your bosses could inform Counter-intelligence in both the Navy and the FBI. So what exactly is it you are asking of me?"

Ziva sighed. "I have a suspicion as to what type of assets will be sent. A strong suspicion."

"Who?"

"That is what I do not wish to speak of here. Also I have a gift for you. We will need a private place."

Emily nodded, planning ahead. "Arrival date of these assets?"

"They may already be here."

They finished their dinner quickly and efficiently.

"We'd better go," Emily said as soon they'd laid their forks down.

Ziva looked at her. "Too tense, Emily. Your team members will know something is wrong immediately."

"Shit. Sorry." Emily sat back, fed up with herself.

Ziva shrugged. Emily had already acknowledged that undercover work was no longer for her. Ziva wasn't going to find fault. "If you cannot relax, there is an obvious way to pass off the tension. Unless it will affect your team ..."

"It better not or they're not the people they need to be for our work." Emily looked up grimly and the Prentiss Effect brought a waiter to them immediately. She paid in cash.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

...

"They're coming over," Garcia whispered needlessly.

Neither Emily nor her friend had bothered with polite niceties that might have slowed them down. Each had grabbed her own coat and shrugged it on as they started walking so in the space of a breath after Garcia had spoken they were here.

"Hi," Emily's smile was genuine. "Sorry I couldn't join in tonight but this one," she slung a companionable arm over the other woman's shoulders, "isn't often available. This is NCIS Special Agent Ziva David. Ziva, my team members and good friends, Penelope Garcia and Jennifer Jareau."

Hellos and handshakes were quickly exchanged, then Ziva said smoothly, "I am sorry I will not get to know you all better this time but Emily and I have much to catch up on and she has promised me dessert ... elsewhere. However next time we meet, I hope it will be for longer." She shifted the point of her shoulder and her weight a tiny bit further into Emily, which was not coincidentally also in the direction of the door. Subtle but noticeable enough to observant interested eyes.

"Wouldn't _dream_ of keeping you," Garcia grinned cheerfully and all too knowingly. "Have a good time catching up. See you on Monday, Emily." Beside her JJ gave forth a smile more tense than Emily had expected. Still, Ziva was also in law enforcement. It made sense that they were getting JJ the agent rather than JJ the friend.

"Indeed." Emily grinned back. "Don't get too hungover, you two. Night."

...

"This is not where you live."

Emily smiled. "No, it's my mother's residence. Don't worry, the parental unit is in Europe for a couple of weeks."

With no trouble at all, Emily had them admitted. Once inside she led Ziva to the music room.

She had practised here as a teenager. It still had the upright piano she had used, polished to a shine despite its long years of silence. More importantly, it still had the soundproofing. When it was time to be cautious, one couldn't be cautious enough.

"Talk," she said, and began to play at a moderate volume.

Ziva hung over the piano, apparently watching her play, but speaking rapidly below the volume of the music.

"Mossad has assets no one talks about. Dark assets. So dark they are black. This would be one of them. He would be someone your unit would hunt if he were here and roaming free. I do not know how they control him at home but it probably involves confinement and medication. That is why he would have a team of handlers on mission. His missions would be multiple kill targets in a confined space. If necessary, the handlers will blow up the place, and him with it."

"What does 'necessary' mean in this context?"

"They would have a tranq gun for retrieval. But if he hides and they cannot retrieve him without danger to themselves, if the police come too soon ..." Ziva shrugged. "The US has no tolerance for assassins, even those backed by a friendly government. His handlers will have orders not to do anything here but control him and not to be caught doing that. He is expendable. They are not."

She hesitated. "I am sorry: I have no name or face to give you. So much is only rumour, even within Mossad."

Emily nodded.

"The black asset is not a robot. He has a brain of his own and he might escape his handlers. I am telling you this in case he does. Because if so, his activities will undoubtedly require that your team be called in. You need to be aware that his handlers are around - and of what they might do. You would profile him, yes? But that would not necessarily lead you to know about the handlers."

"So if he stays under their control, I won't be hearing about anything for the BAU to work on?"'

"You will not. This is a 'head's up', just in case."

"OK. Thank you."

"You can stop playing now."

Emily stopped. Ziva reached into her bag.

"As I said, I have a gift for you,' she announced, "but you have to accept all of it, not just this part."

"_This_ part?"

Ziva put it down on top of the piano as Emily stood to look.

It was a knife in a black sheath made of some tough-looking synthetic material. Carefully Emily slid it out. It had a silver steel spear point with a flat plain black handle and a definite but subtle fingerguard.

Emily didn't know knives especially well but this was unquestionably one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen in its simplicity and craftsmanship.

"It's wonderful," she breathed.

"The other part of the gift," Ziva said, "is that you take lessons. From me when it is possible, from others when it is not. I will recommend them."

"Knife fighting?" Emily was touched but a little incredulous.

Ziva shook her head. "I know of no such thing. Knives are about movement. The way you move to slash someone's throat is the same way you move to crush his windpipe when you have a Faber-Castell highlighter, or indeed nothing, in your hand. You learn the movement with a single-edged blade because that demands that the movement be precise, correct. I am asking you to make adjustments in your lifestyle. First in your wardrobe to accommodate at least one knife as often as possible, in your posture to hide that you have them, then in how you think about physical confrontations. I am asking you to commit the time and energy and brainspace to learning a whole new way to move."

"That would make this one of the most valuable gifts I've ever received," Emily said in quiet awe. "I'm not even sure I deserve it," she fished.

Ziva leaned her elbows on the piano, looking satisfied. "You saved my life in Hungary when it risked your cover and after all these years, I have not yet thanked you properly because I did not know your name for years and then when I found out, you were supposed to be dead. I did not know you were here until we looked up the BAU for this. So now I get to kill two birds with one stone ... although I do not see why anyone would not kill birds with a bullet ..."

Emily chuckled. "The saying probably originated with people who _had_ no bullets. And I accept the whole gift with gratitude and pleasure. It is an honour."

"What time do you leave home for work in the mornings?"

"Usually around 6am."

"I will be there tomorrow at 5am. Dress as if for work. We will not sweat. From 5am tomorrow, you start getting used to moving this new way from the moment you wake up. It is not just for special occasions when you are wearing workout gear or trousers or a bulletproof vest or have warmed up. It is for _all_ the time. Even if you have been sitting at a computer in a tight skirt and heels for hours and then walk into a cold carpark." Ziva smiled thinly. "No high kicks."

"High kicks," Emily said with feeling, "are not my thing anyway."

Ziva continued, "You must continue to practise everything you learn tomorrow until we can have lesson 2. Every day. All the time you can spare. There are visualization exercises for times when you have to stay seated. Whenever you have an interval during which your mind is not occupied by work, you must practise _something_. The point is not just to learn, the point is to make it unconscious habit. Yes?"

Emily nodded. "Absolutely. You will be welcome at 5am."

She would be quite glad that Ziva's tip would come to nothing. Weeks later, Ziva would send her a text to tell her all was good and Mossad was no longer a potential concern for the BAU.

...

In a car on the other side of town JJ was driving Garcia home. Garcia was a bit excited and JJ was less than charmed by it.

"Did you _see _that? The way they were together?" Garcia rubbed her hands together, her eyes alight. "And that agent is Hebrew from that surname. Did you hear her accent? I bet she's actually Israeli. Our Emily sure knows exotic people."

"PG, do not cyber stalk that agent," JJ clipped out. "Emily's entitled to her privacy, as are her friends."

She was, she saw, not having much of an effect.

"Pen," she went on urgently, "has it escaped your notice that none of us has ever met anyone Emily's dating? Or even her current friends outside work?"

"That's precisely why my fingers are _itching _to go a-walking," Garcia said with a certain amount of relish.

In a fit of sudden temper, JJ pulled into a handy parking lot and turned to face her friend. "And has it occurred to you that this is exactly why we haven't met them?" she demanded. "Emily keeps her private life completely separate from work. She clearly prefers it that way. She's never had to enforce that line with us because we've never pushed it. If you push it now, what you do think she'll do? She will pull back and draw that line explicitly. She will take greater precautions and in so doing she will withdraw from us, because pushing that line indicates a disrespect of the boundaries she's drawn and that kind of disrespect is frightening. Being disrespectful is also the last thing her friends should do. And, Pen, if you can do that to her, then I know," she levelled the full force of her glare on Garcia, "that you would also do it to me."

Garcia actually started to feel a little frightened for their friendship. "Okay! Fine, I won't," she capitulated. To her relief, JJ relaxed and stared out of the windshield.

"Do you remember," JJ said at length, "the night we found out Emily was going to the opera?"

Years ago, not long after Emily's détente with her mother, they'd had a movie night at Emily's and Garcia had blearily spotted the tickets on the mantel shelf when they were half-tanked.

"_Emily, what's Cavalleria Rusticana?"_

"_Oh," Emily waved a dismissive hand. "Just an opera I'm going to with my mother if we don't get a case."_

"_Seriously?" JJ leaned forward, eager to learn something more about their fascinating new friend. "You really like that stuff?"_

_Emily shot her an amused look. "Why? Something wrong with it?"_

_Garcia hiccupped. "Nothing that a half million dollar education won't cure!"_

_For a moment JJ feared they had offended Emily, but no, Emily just cocked her head. "Do you say that because you've had a bad experience with it?"_

"_Nooo ..." Garcia drawled out, "it's just obviously a status thing and before you say it, I know it's reverse snobbery on my part."_

_Emily paused the forgettable movie they were nominally 'watching' and held up a finger while she rummaged through her CD collection and put one on._

"_Listen," she said. "This is the opening scene of The Marriage of Figaro. Figaro is measuring a room to fit in his wedding bed. You hear this measuring melody? "_

_The two blondes nodded._

"_Now, here ... is where his wife-to-be, Susanna, comes in, and she telling him about her concern, which is that the Count who employs them is making advances on her. You hear the different melody for the different subject?"_

_More blonde nods._

"_Okay, so for a little bit, just to reinforce the point that they start out with different things on their minds, the two melodies mix, but then what happens?" She looked up. _

_JJ said excitedly, "They're both singing her melody now!"_

"_Exactly!" Emily was animated, her dark eyes sparkling. "Obviously there's an internal logic to the scene because her worries are clearly more important than what's on his mind so now he's worrying about the same thing she is. But in the larger scheme of the opera, she's by far the stronger personality so the fact that here he gives up his theme and adopts hers presages that. And within the discipline of the musical form and both the structural and character-based logic, the music is ... just wonderful ..." She trailed off, staring into space for a minute as she listened. _"_I've always believed that adhering to the discipline of form and logic allows a freedom of expression that is otherwise limitless. Without discipline, you get prettiness and maybe some meaning but often you just get chaos. With it, though, you can get as close to perfect beauty as human genius can contrive ..."_

_When she finally hit the stop button, JJ and Garcia were wide-eyed._

"_My point," Emily leaned forward intently, "is that nothing I've said requires even the training to read music. It doesn't require a half million dollar education. All it requires is an ear that recognizes a melody once heard."_

_She had started self-consciously, but by the time she finished, her whole attitude was compelling and her co-workers were awestruck. _

"I do remember," Garcia said with reminiscent pleasure. "That was great, wasn't it?"

"Well," JJ said, "life and relationships are like that. Even within families there is discipline, the discipline of courtesy and respect for boundaries. Pen, most people's boundaries are far, far out from just their bedroom door. Friends and families can push those boundaries when they need to but they can't just invade them. Everyone needs them. If you make someone feel like their protective shell has been peeled off they just build those shells up again, but thicker and stronger. I know you only ever mean well towards us, but you can't get carried away to the point of disrespect. Because if we keep to that discipline, then within the bounds of the relationship, we get an abundance of riches. It's ungrateful and counter-productive to push for more."

"You got all that from the Prentiss Discursive on Opera?" Garcia said admiringly. "I just stopped being a reverse snob! But okay, I take the point. I've been pushing it a bit, huh?"

JJ gave her a reserved sideways glance. "We love the way you are, Pen. Just ... tone it down on the gossip front when it comes to the team, okay? No one likes to feel like grist to the gossip mill, however well you mean it. You're good on everything else."

But there still was an unsatisfied, bottled up look about her and when they arrived at Garcia's apartment block and Garcia said, "Come on up, buttercup," she obeyed without protest.

Garcia made coffee.

"I'm listening", was all she had to say.

JJ sighed miserably. "I think that was why Emily went to London."

"What?! What do you mean?" Garcia was horrified.

"Because even after I read Morgan that lecture, you remember ..."

Garcia nodded.

"Even though that was accepted at the time, there was always this ... sense that Emily was secretive and that that was something to be disapproved of because 'we're family'. But Emily isn't a person who blabs about herself; she never will be. I think she felt she couldn't be the sort of 'family' we wanted her to be. Pen, we can't say we love a lion and say it's part of our family and then expect that as the price of admission it must become a pussycat. Emily has too much integrity to not be herself and she couldn't meet our expectations. So she took herself away from those expectations. From us."

"She's only on loan right now," JJ went on forlornly. "She can still go back to Interpol. And you _know, _Pen, it was never the same without her. We can do our job without her but we like it so much more _with_ her. I just don't want anything to be done which might give her more of a reason to leave again."

Garcia heard the broken note in her friend's voice. Reid too, would feel like that. Reid, who found personal loss so difficult, would be made to suffer yet another if Emily left again. And the generally imperturbable Rossi adored Emily too.

There was a terrible plausibility to JJ's theory that made Garcia suspect it was correct, and she _hated_ the thought she might be even partially responsible for Emily leaving.

"The worst thing is, she never put on an act for us _ever,_" JJ hammered on. "She was exactly that brilliant and thoughtful and levelheaded and brave _all_ the damn time and we were the beneficiaries of that. She was always real with us and there for us. But who was there for her? _We _were supposed to be but the first real chance we had, we blew it. We became supportive on the surface but Emily's _lived_ profiling for years; she can't help seeing below the surface. In an essential sense, we blew it because we wanted her to be something she was not. That isn't love, Pen. And I know the reason she _told_ us she was leaving. But you don't really expect anyone to say, 'Hey guys, I'm going because you've driven me away', do you? In fact she might not ever have articulated this to herself because she doesn't blame other people for her problems. But I feel in my gut that this is the absolute truth."

Garcia was feeling very low. She remembered how, long ago, JJ had come to her almost incoherent with praise for Emily. Yes, it was that truck driver case, the one who had kidnapped and murdered women while trying to find the perfect wife and mother for his daughter so she wouldn't be fostered out. Once Garcia had calmed her friend down, JJ had explained how, within minutes of meeting his daughter, Emily had spotted the pictures in the girl's bedroom and JJ had followed her lead in questioning the little girl. With her father just outside holding a hostage, Emily had virtually instantly devised and started executing a strategy to ensure minimal casualties in their final confrontation with her father. She had done this in the bedroom with only JJ, then still the team's media liaison, and the girl there, with no other profilers around to caucus on the idea, but with utter surefootedness that required no bolstering from anyone else. In hindsight, this must have been how she had operated alone in the field for JTF-12. JJ had been _so_ impressed in a way Garcia had never seen before. And Hotch had trusted Emily to handle survivors, witnesses, victims' families without supervision. So JJ was right. The brilliance, the sympathy and compassion, the knowledge of what people needed at terrible moments of their lives, tailored into action that fit the relationship she had with them, none of that could have been faked with longterm consistency.

Of all of them, the true adults, Hotch, Rossi and JJ had not for one moment ever held Emily's past against her. Rossi hadn't even resented being kept in the dark about the truth behind her 'death'. But Garcia and Reid and Morgan _had_ resented being kept in the dark about _anything_, to the point that they had essentially thrown tantrums to varying degrees because of it. It had been puerile behaviour for people supposed to be adults in a workplace. _All _of them had had bits of themselves revealed only over time. How could they expect _anyone_'s complete history, complete self, to be presented to them in its entirety with a neat little bow? In the end Emily had even been right: Rossi and Seaver were alive today _because_ she had gone off on her own and ended up with Doyle - she had _been_ there to convince him to have Fahey killed instead.

Emily had come to them with no credit for her past work and won them over on her own real merit, only to have had her past held against her instead of being honoured for it. By the people who had dared to call themselves her 'family'. The people who had always required _her_ to fit in with _them _without serious accommodation for who and what she was. And Garcia was maybe the biggest problem now because here she was, planning to force an openness that wasn't Emily on her again.

She felt a little sick. Emily Prentiss was no pussycat. Garcia would have to have a long talk with Reid over lunch.

...

To JJ's relief, Emily didn't talk about Ziva and the woman seemed to disappear into the ether. But it was that very relief that made JJ think very deeply indeed. Because someone as attractive as Emily was probably going to have many opportunities to stop being single if she wanted to ...

A/N: Work's become ridiculous since the second instalment of this was published. Finding the time and energy during midnight hours for editing and more importantly, the motivation to cut the right 70% of the original draft, has been difficult. So for those of you who have reviewed, followed, favourited or PMed to let me know that it matters to you that I go on, please know that while it may only have taken you a few seconds, it does have a positive effect. Thank you very much for taking the time.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: It is true. I do not do well with fanfic tropes. To anyone still reading who had a favourite one (or more) that I've driven a truck through ... oops. And I'm still driving.

...

Chapter 10

Not long after that evening, Emily stepped into the role of BAU chief as if she had been born for it. Then couple of months later, JJ's mother died unexpectedly, but quickly and painlessly, from an aneurysm.

At the funeral service the team all sat in the second row behind JJ except for Emily, who had been snagged to sit next to JJ – she assumed this was because of her professional status as JJ's team leader combined with her personal status as a good friend. Will walked in – and was ushered to a third row seat by JJ's brother, who then took the empty seat next to Henry, on JJ's other side, which everyone had thought had been meant for Will. They all saw this, but no one was impolite enough to stare or ask the questions that Emily imagined hovered in cartoon bubbles over their heads.

At the reception after the service, Henry sat in a quiet corner keeping company with his father. JJ and her brother had to do duty as hosts. Her brother had his wife beside him. And Emily felt the weight that told her that stubbornly self-sufficient Jennifer Jareau was not just holding her arm but leaning on it. She felt signally honoured, being relied for something so purely personal.

Filled with tenderhearted concern, she squired JJ around with gallant solicitude, watchful of her comfort and her dignity. When JJ faltered, Emily took her outside for some air for a few minutes until she was recovered. When JJ couldn't find words, Emily made courteous excuses on her behalf and discreetly piloted her away to get a drink and gather herself until she could speak again.

For her part, it was all that JJ could do to face her old neighbours and her mother's friends and receive their condolences. They had seen more of her mother in recent years than she had herself. There was a portion of guilt in acknowledging that in truth, they deserved condolences as much as she. So she was very thankful that Emily didn't need instructions, that she had the innate social awareness to sense that what was required of her in this situation was to relieve JJ of some of the burden of making conversation with these people by taking up some of the slack herself.

And JJ was also thankful that Emily and the rest of the team had too much kindness and good sense to ask about Will at this time. They would wait patiently until she got back from compassionate leave.

...

A week later, on JJ's first day back, she had to fly up to Detroit immediately to catch up with the team, who were about to close a case. She arrived just in time to be hugged in greeting by everyone on the team, assure them that she was fine and ready to work and then be briefed on the takedown.

It was quick and efficient and no one was seriously injured. Well, except that, barrelling round a corner, Luke had been unable to stop himself from running into Emily. Both had slightly sore heads but appeared none the worse for wear. Still, they had to wait a couple of hours before the jet could take off so Rossi and JJ, in an excess of caution they could now afford, insisted on driving Luke and Emily to the hospital while the others packed up at the precinct.

Emily learned that she was not concussed and would only be a little sore. Now she was b…o…r…e…d.

Her head ached a little too much for Ziva's visualization exercises so she searched her surroundings for something light with which to occupy herself. But there wasn't anything interesting; it was just a standard hospital treatment room.

Outside a woman stopped her baby carriage just at the door to Emily's room, apparently having caught sight of someone she wanted to talk to. Voices began a quiet conversation outside.

Emily levered herself into a standing position and tottered over to sink quietly into a chair just inside the door. The infant stared at her from no more than couple of feet away with pale translucent green eyes. He couldn't have been more than six months old. Emily was enchanted.

Children needed to know important things to grow up. This one deserved no less. She swayed her torso forwards and looked into the green eyes confidentially.

In a subversive whisper, she informed him, "A wonderful bird is the pelican. His bill can hold more than his belly can. He can take in his beak food enough for a week, though I'm damned if I see how the ..."

"Emily!"

Emily immediately started humming a lullaby. JJ drew up and looked between her and the baby for a second. Then she smiled, came in and quietly closed the door.

_Do not look guilty. Do not look guilty._

"Why do you look guilty?"

_Rats! _"ummm … I do?" Emily gazed her, trying to channel wide-eyed innocence. "I can't think why."

JJ chuckled.

_Heh. Not in trouble._

But JJ was now looking around distractedly. "Emily, where is the nurse?"

"If you mean the one with the face like a smacked arse," Emily said, determined to be helpful, "she went off duty." (Some expressions just didn't travel well across the Atlantic so Emily imported them wholesale.)

JJ's lips pursed tight but the corners of her mouth quivered. "How do you feel?"

"Not bad," Emily said. "My head is pretty clear. 'Disinterested' means having no vested interest; as in 'auditors have to be disinterested in the companies they audit'. 'Uninterested' means bored or unexcited by; as in 'I am uninterested in where smacked arse went'. See? I know the difference. I'm lucid."

"Yes, I can see that." JJ's voice quavered suspiciously and she had to look away for a long moment to steady it. It was still a little choked when she said, "Have you been given any medication?"

"Nah," Emily said, discovering that she was now _un_interested in shaking her head. Or in doing anything that involved moving her neck much. "I only have to take over-the-counter stuff for my head. I can leave. I was just waiting for one of you to come by. You know, so you wouldn't think I got kidnapped or went all lone wolf or something."

JJ rolled her eyes. "Come on, then. Luke and Dave are waiting." She opened the door and took Emily's arm just in case she was unsteady.

On the plane, her aching head made Emily doze off so she missed JJ staring out the window and grinning hugely. The others were just glad to see the light of genuine humour back in their blonde colleague's eyes.

...

Interlude

That evening as he left the office, David Rossi spied JJ making her way up to Emily's office. Downstairs, he started his car and, half amused and half concerned, pondered the fact that he would never understand some women.

He'd always wondered whether JJ had just given in to Will's sincerity, persistence and effort, because it had been the simple, obvious and comfortable way forward. Whenever he'd seen them together that was the impression he got – there was affection, yes, but with a curious flatness he wouldn't have expected of someone with JJ's capacity for strong feelings. Even their first kiss in front of the team had seemed more than a little bit put on, a bit too much of a show of defiance on JJ's part.

They'd all been nice to Will throughout the years of course; he was inoffensive and he'd been good to JJ. But privately Dave had always thought him a bit dull, a bit of a nonentity. Morgan's wife, Savannah, in comparison, was a live wire, a great partner for him. And Dave was pretty sure that over time, he'd read Emily as thinking exactly the same about all this so he wasn't alone. Still, though it was for reasons he couldn't fathom, _JJ_ obviously hadn't found Will dull.

And maybe she might find the same flat sort of coupledom again. Today he'd seen Emily cast one or two speculative looks between JJ and Reid. It wasn't difficult for him guess at what she was looking out for.

Those two had known each other virtually all their adult lives. Reid had been with JJ nearly every moment at the office and in the field. They were close - but that hadn't led to Emily conceiving that they might take it further before. Had JJ said something in private recently that Emily had taken as a hint about it?

He couldn't picture it. Unlike Emily, who'd been in London at the time, he had seen Reid lighting up about Maeve when they had never so much as seen each other - and never displaying the smallest particle of that kind of feeling for JJ while working by her side for all these years. Also, there was no denying it: Reid was still in some respects very young for his chronological age. Reid with some as yet faceless kind stranger was something to be happy about; trying to visualize JJ and him together just squicked Dave out.

But then there was Will as the outstanding precedent for JJ's incomprehensible decision-making processes in personal matters. So, unlikely as it was, Dave couldn't rule out the possibility that JJ might try to make a go of it with Reid.

Seriously, what ailed the dear girl?

He wished desperately that _Emily _would find some passion with someone, a good someone. Right now she was just very responsible about work because she loved it, which was fine. But he didn't want her to go a further step and become another Hotch or Gideon, sublimating all of herself into her work and becoming addicted to it. Now she still had a chance to have another outlet for some of her energy. If she became addicted she wouldn't seek another outlet and if one presented itself, she would never be able to commit to it. When JJ and Will had gone public and JJ had become pregnant, Emily had been severely depressed by the reminder that despite being older by several years, her own private life was pretty empty, the reminder that time had almost run out for her. Well, time _had _run out in that one way: she was now beyond the age when she could safely carry a child; but there were a lot of other ways in which it had _not_ yet run out and he wanted her to have more than just the work before it did.

He rolled neatly into his parking spot at home and got out. He needed cheering up and he needed dinner. _Penne alla Arrabiata_. Heh, thinking about the Death Star Canteen would do the job.

...

Chapter 11

Emily looked up with surprise as JJ knocked and entered her office, closing the door behind her and advancing to set some files down on the desk.

"Hey," she said, "what are you still doing here? It's so late. Everyone else has gone."

JJ shrugged. "Henry's staying on with his cousins for another week. His school cleared it as long he does the homework, and I figured the kids could all benefit from it: they've all lost their Gran. So working late isn't a problem tonight. I wanted to catch up on my paperwork, clear my desk."

Emily nodded but didn't say anything more. Mature JJ was less forthcoming than young JJ. It could be a little forbidding. The knack with people like that was to make a space for them to volunteer personal information instead of asking; then when they chose to speak, they would speak more freely.

"Are you busy?" JJ looked inquisitively at the papers Emily was reading.

"Nothing that can't wait if there's something on your mind." Emily laid the paperwork down and leaned back, careful to keep her body language open.

JJ took a seat. "How's the head?"

"The nap helped, or I'd have crashed by now." Emily shrugged, still disinclined towards any form of head shaking.

JJ trained her eyes on the desk. "I wanted to tell you first about the separation, you know. That's why I didn't say anything to Pen. But then there was the funeral and ..." she opened her hands helplessly.

"You don't owe me any more information about your personal life then you want to tell," Emily said, with the faintest touch of hauteur. By now, JJ had made the necessary changes to her medical proxy (Emily) and next-of-kin notifications (her brother and Henry). "I'm sorry you went through that alone. I believed you were happy and I thought I'd been trying hard enough to keep in touch with what's going with all of you."

"No, don't say that! You do great." JJ shook her head. "You have every right to believe things are OK until we tell you otherwise. How else could you know? And I didn't tell anyone earlier because I didn't want to risk creating an us-versus-him sort of atmosphere. If that had happened, we might not still have a good relationship between us as co-parents."

That was understandable. Emily began to unbend. JJ went on urgently, "Emily, you mustn't think of this as a reflection on your leadership or on you as a friend. Please! Oh, I feel terrible about this now ..."

"Okay, okay!" Won over by JJ's panic-stricken tone, Emily relaxed. "Geez ..." She gave a little eye roll. "No need for apoplexy here, JJ. We're good."

"I always wanted to tell you first," JJ said again, apparently not yet entirely convinced that she'd fixed things between them.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Emily felt able now to send out a gentle probe.

JJ sighed in relief, reassured that they had re-established their comfort with each other. "We just ... had our time, I guess. It was hard for Will being away from New Orleans, as hard as it would have been for me to uproot myself and move there. I guess that kind of wore him down and I still didn't want to leave."

She paused. "You know, when we first separated and he moved back, he missed Henry of course, but we were both so relieved, not having to put up a good front for each other. There was no coming back together after that."

Emily frowned. "I can understand from what you've said why _he _put up a front for _you_ but why did _you_ have to for _him_?"

Tellingly, JJ looked as if she had just realised she had misspoken and was caught off guard by this question. She hesitated. "Because ... well, because we were basically friendly and familiar babysitters for each other for quite a while before the end. It hadn't been a real marriage for a long time. It just took us a lot longer to recognise that and then to acknowledge it because it seemed easier not to. And then after ... Askari ..., it took a while for us to talk about breaking up because Will was being supportive of my recovery and I wasn't in any state for upheaval. But eventually we did and it's all done now. In four or five months we'll be able to have the divorce finalised."

Emily nodded slowly. JJ had deliberately avoided declaring her own motives for the break up. She'd completely omitted the reasons why it 'hadn't been a real marriage' for however long it was. But Emily was untroubled by that for the moment. JJ hadn't let her personal problems affect her work. As her team leader, there was no reason to pry. As her friend, she knew it would just make JJ retreat and/or push back and it was not in Emily's nature to pry anyway. JJ would tell her anything she needed to know or anything JJ needed to tell.

Eventually she asked, "Will you be telling Garcia any of this?"

JJ snorted with good humour. "Yeah, I will of course. But Emily, I meant it when I said I always wanted to tell you first. Not only are you the unit chief, but you know, twelve years, saved each other, all that shit." She gave Emily's foot a friendly poke under the desk with her toe.

They smiled at each other.

After a moment, Emily pointed out gently, "You've known Garcia even longer. I'm just surprised that you seem a bit reluctant to tell her."

JJ sighed. "Yes, well ..."

Emily gave her an encouraging nod.

"Look," JJ said at last with difficulty, "I love her to death and I know you do too. But it's just ... she'd want to set me up on dates or keep an eye on me and I didn't want that sort of pressure on me to act a certain way in order to satisfy her that I'm fine. I mean, I'm really OK but I'm not twenty five anymore. I've spent the last couple of months getting used to Will not being around and it's been a bit of an adjustment, good _and _bad, but I think that's normal. I don't want Pen thinking anything's wrong and fussing just because I'm not the way I used to be when I was younger and single."

Emily nodded sagely. "Ah, yes. It's deliberate, you know."

"What?"

"The appearance of immaturity. She keeps that up deliberately."

JJ sighed. "You noticed."

"Of course. How could I not? You and Reid have grown and changed so much since I first met you, but Pen has remained essentially unchanged for twelve years. That can't be anything _but_ deliberate, not for someone of her intelligence, someone who sees and hears the things she does because of our work. It's her way of maintaining some degree of innocence and optimism." Although Emily had noticed Garcia toning down her gossip queen aspect a while ago, somewhat to her relief ...

"Yes," JJ agreed. "And I understand that ... but I don't do that myself._ I_ haven't resisted growing up. I've been married. I have a son. Can you see that the sort of reaction that would have been seemed entertaining and supportive twelve years ago wouldn't work for me now? And that because _she_ insists on _not_ growing up, it's hard to tell her not to do what she's always done?"

"I know. The only thing I can suggest is to be upfront about what you _don't_ want from her. If she does something you've told her not to, you're allowed to be annoyed."

Emily really ought to have expected JJ to pick up on that. "Does she annoy _you_ now? Maybe just once or twice now and then?"

Emily wanted to say no. But although she and JJ didn't tell each other _everything_, what they _did_ tell each other was always the truth. Reluctantly she replied, "When time is crucial and seconds might count towards the saving of lives, and she insists on delaying delivery of her findings with commentary and build-up, yes. But from her perspective, the urgency isn't always as obvious as it is to us. And so much of what makes up Pen is what keeps us cheerful and positive that I don't want to put a damper on it. It's as important to everyone else as it is to her. And_ s_he's done so _much_ over and above the call of duty for all of us for so long ..."

JJ reached out and put a hand on Emily's. "Will you let me handle that for you? You're handicapped by having the formal rank. Anyway, as you pointed out, I have things to tell her and to discourage her from matchmaking, so I might as well deal with everything at once."

"I would be so grateful if you did that, Jayje," Emily turned her hand over to grip JJ's in emphasis. "I don't want to have to keep biting my tongue around her, but on the other hand it would kill me to see her hurt because of something I said. It's hard being the boss to people who've been my friends for such a long time."

Shit. She hadn't meant to say that last bit out loud.

But JJ just shook her head. "I get that, but you do it really well, Emily. I always knew you would. You don't shelter, you support. You watch for our morale flagging and keep it up, even when we make a mistake. When we're upset, you'll say or do something to make us feel less overwhelmed, make our issues seem manageable. We can compartmentalize better because the distraction is diminished.

And the atmosphere is lighter now than it used to be. Given that we hunt the sort of people that are quite enough by themselves to make us feel grim and oppressed already, that's a _good_ thing.

Most of all, you have a clear view of how much and how far objectivity is necessary and you don't demand more. We don't have to make the effort to appear unaffected because we don't fear that you'll think we can't be objective when we need to be. So we have a baseline level of comfort to face what we have to face every day because we're not strung out all the time by having to ignore or suppress our upset in order to hide it."

Emily stared at her. "I never knew you felt like this ..."

JJ shook her head again. "It's not just me, Reid does too. He thinks you're the model of what a leader should be."

She paused. "Look, I would still love working for Hotch, no question. But you mustn't ever think you're somehow less good a team leader than he was. You both just have different styles of leading because you're different people and had different things happen to you. Hotch was different very early on, but then so much happened to make him close up, with Elle Greenaway, then Gideon and then Haley. In fact I think in later days, he was able to regain some of his old self because you and Rossi were around. You both reminded him, by example, how to be committed to the work without being all doom and gloom all the time. For some reason, Reid and Morgan never had that effect on him."

She frowned in thought. "I don't know why, but I got the impression that after you came back out of hiding, he saw you as more of an equal. I like to think he had lighter moments with you and Dave. And I also think that even if Morgan had stayed, Hotch would still have asked you to be the unit chief even though he'd had Morgan do it before."

Emily was suddenly very glad JJ had come to talk. "I don't know what to say," she murmured faintly. "You're really making me blush here."

JJ stood up and gave her a dazzling and unselfconscious smile, one Emily hadn't seen in some time. Looking at her now, Emily realized that those smiles had been muted for a long while. Had it just been since her abduction or longer? JJ's marriage had been less than two years before the abduction, two years when Emily hadn't been there to see ... had she stopped being truly happy so soon after what should have been one of the highest points in her life?

"Then, Emily, my work here is done. If you ever again start to doubt that you belong where you are, come to me and I'll repeat the lesson gladly. Now, go rest, like the rest of us normal people."

At the door she paused, staring at it for a moment. "You know, speaking of normal people, you should think about spending more time with me and Henry. If you need a break, there's no way you can even _think_ about work when you're telling him about dinosaurs."

She turned finally to flash a quick, affectionate smile, which Emily returned with a pleased nod. Then she opened the door and left.

...

Much later, just after she fell asleep, Emily's phone shrilled. Groggily she lifted her head from her pillow and peered at the foreign number displayed. Brussels. Therefore probably Interpol. Therefore probably Clyde.

Desperately sleepy and unusually grumpy from her sore head, she stabbed the button to pick up and groaned, "_Qui_ the fuck_ est-ce_?"

It was past 1am her time after all. She was allowed to be tetchy.

The call took barely two minutes. Afterwards she reset her alarm and flopped back into sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 3**

Chapter 12

The next morning Clyde entered the conference room beside Emily. The whole team looked at him warily. Clearly those who hadn't met him before had been brought up to speed. Emily made introductions, then took a seat and left Clyde standing.

"I'm here," he began, "because we've found someone who used to be connected to a network we, that is, JTF-12, helped the French take down years ago." He looked at Emily and paused. He had already told her the essentials so she wouldn't be surprised, but he was doing an obvious lead up so she would have time to prepare internally if she needed it. "A network led by Vlad Anghelescu."

Emily recalled Vlad's dapperness, his dead-fish stare and the inflectionless voice with which he'd said to his number two, _Shoot her in the spine. Make sure she lives._

She didn't blink. "Tell them who you've found."

Easter handed a USB drive to Garcia and held up a photo. "Name's Gunnar Sorenson." He looked at the rest of the team. "After Anghelescu's network was dismantled, Interpol's file was never closed because we were after everyone who'd had dealings with it. The network was basically finance and logistics, but it was ultimately responsible for a lot of things, gunrunning, human trafficking, corporate espionage … no one involved with it was a good guy. When we busted Vlad, the bugs vanished into the woodwork but over time they started coming back out and we've been able to pick them up, one by one. Sorenson is one of these bugs. He's a middleman but he's making enough money to tell us we should stop him. Unlike the others we nabbed, he has business here so he sometimes comes onto US soil. He's here now, in New York City. Well, ... I say 'we nabbed' but as you know, Interpol has no powers of arrest anywhere. So in this case, on US territory, it's the FBI who will decide how to go after Sorenson, with any information and advice we can provide. Interpol only has to keep track of things here because if he leaves the US, we will have to liaise with law enforcement wherever he goes. I'm briefing you as a professional courtesy to Emily. Whether the BAU goes after him or not is not my decision. In fact when I've finished here I have to brief your higher-ups. I know it's not your sort of case so unless you're told otherwise, think of this briefing as a mere courtesy. Everything else is on the drive I've given to Miss Garcia."

He put the photo back in his file. "I'm due to meet your grand pooh-bahs at ten. Any questions?"

No one had any.

...

A couple of hours later, Emily unfolded herself from her chair and left her room. In her peripheral vision, Rossi and JJ, without so much as a glance exchanged, detached themselves from the team chatting together in the bullpen and began to follow her. They parked themselves on either side of her as she waited at the elevator bank.

She eyed them with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Is this some sort of intervention?"

"No," JJ said. "But in the unlikely event that you need backup, we are that backup."

Emily chuckled. "I hardly think I need backup to hear what the directors' plan for Sorenson is."

"Then we're witnesses," Rossi put in urbanely. "If you murder them, we can say it was self-defence from lethal aggravation."

"They're only expecting _me_," Emily pointed out mildly.

JJ held up a pen and notebook. "You need someone to take notes, and Rossi's senior enough to get away with anything. He's the intimidation goon."

Emily didn't stop them getting onto the elevator with her, but she shook her head at JJ's stationery. "I'm pretty certain everyone in the FBI hierarchy who matters knows that SSA Jennifer Jareau is not anyone's amanuensis. Your cover's already blown."

"Well, then I can be an intimidation goon too," JJ said lightly.

They fell into silence until they arrived at the conference room where the directors were gathered. Emily knocked.

When the door was opened, it was by SAC Scully. Since the Tripp case, she and Emily had exchanged emails a couple of times a year, even throughout Emily's tenure in London. Emily had written especially to congratulate her on her last promotion. She now favoured the BAU trio with a deadpan expression. "Reinforcements, Prentiss?"

"Do I need them to be?" Emily countered.

Scully's eyes dropped to JJ's notebook. "One could say you didn't need them in _any_ capacity whatsoever up here … However, no harm done. Come on in and take a seat."

There was no one else in the room. Emily turned to her with raised brows.

"Plan's been made," Scully explained. "Everyone else has scattered to the four winds, or more likely to lattes and pastries." She took a seat at the table, a file in front of her. Emily, Rossi and JJ sat across from her.

"So what's the deal?"

"They're assigning a special purpose team to take Sorenson down," Scully said. "SSA Johnson will lead out of the New York office but I have oversight from here. The BAU continues with its normal work because we can't spare you for this. Sadly, serial killers don't take time off for our convenience. However I'll keep you informed, Prentiss. Right now, we're just setting up surveillance. Nothing will happen for a while. Anything helpful you can tell me from your days taking down the Anghelescu network?"

Emily shook her head. "Nope. What was his connection with it? I haven't read the file in detail since I assumed you wouldn't need us on this right away ... if at all."

"He financed a weapons deal for Anghelescu about three months before your lot started working on the takedown. By the time you were actively involved, that deal was history and Sorenson was long gone. He had a few similar earlier dealings with them too. In and out cleanly."

"Ah. Well, I wish you joy of the hunt."

"Prentiss," Scully stopped her as she prepared to stand. "Easter said that Anghelescu was a piece of work. He didn't give me any details but he did say I could ask you about anything that turned out to be relevant."

"There's nothing I can think of," Emily said. "Anghelescu's dead. His entire command echelon is either also dead or in high security confinement. Just because Sorenson dealt with them doesn't mean his psychology is in any way similar. You'll have to determine that independently, starting from Interpol's initial work up on him."

Scully delicately picked out a sheet of paper from the file in front of her. "...'may have absorbed from Anghelescu tactics for discouraging interference'," she read aloud. She put the paper down and looked at Prentiss, raising a blonde eyebrow. "I take it that's Interpol-speak for 'absolutely do NOT get your agents caught'. I need to be able to tell our people what to expect, how to prepare. Just in case."

For a few seconds, the words simply wouldn't come. Beside Emily, Rossi and JJ, who had been calm and silent, became tensely silent. At last Emily was able to force the words out with precise economy. She didn't know how she kept her voice normal.

"When Vlad believed he had me at his mercy, his instructions were to destroy my C3 and C4 vertebrae without killing me. He planned on keeping me after that. Indefinitely. You can guess what for. I would have been paraplegic, possibly quadriplegic. I might not even have been able to bite my own tongue off to commit suicide."

Even Scully, who had as many years in service as Rossi would if he had not left to write his books, went pale. Anghelescu had had a lot of men. Rossi looked ill and JJ looked down, eyes closed, to hide her white-knuckled distress.

"It doesn't follow that Sorenson is similarly coldblooded," Emily insisted. "In fact if he's just a middleman, it's unlikely. Easter's warning you not to chance it by sending anyone in undercover blindly. However your surveillance will probably reveal a completely different kind of personality. Clyde's giving you a worst case scenario caution, not a conclusion."

"Thanks, Prentiss, I'll bear that in mind."

There didn't seem to be anything more to discuss. Scully accompanied them to the door, where she said abruptly, looking at Rossi and JJ, "Actually, give us a second please. She'll be right out."

Grudgingly, the pair exited and Scully closed the door behind them. "My sources tell me your elevation to ASAC is due next year. Congratulations in advance."

Emily frowned. "What? Why? My team's always been headed by an SSA. It's too small for a higher rank. Hotch led the team superbly for years and _he _wasn't promoted. I've only been unit chief for a fraction of the time he was. In fact I've barely begun!"

"Well, the promotion would be consistent with them planning to move you up the NCAVC ladder," Scully replied thoughtfully. "Hotchner may just have refused any promotions he was offered so as to stay with the team. Everyone knew he only wanted the BAU and nothing else anyway. You're seen as more flexible because you've turned your hand with facility to other things. You're a proven leader, Prentiss, with Interpol and with us, and you have scads of field experience. Management were glad you took the job as unit chief because they expect the high closure rate to continue, but they only want confirmation that you _can_ do it before moving you up to something equivalent to your last position with Interpol ... and beyond, presumably, as time goes on. It makes sense. You'd still have oversight over your current team."

"It makes _perfect_ sense," Emily said with heavy irony, "that management would plan something like this without consulting me."

Scully shrugged. "Well, don't look at me. I'm not them. But before you dismiss the idea out of hand, think about this. Your team has never had sufficient political protection. From what I hear, Hotchner was fighting Strauss for years. Management can ride a bit roughshod over field sometimes and that can take time to remedy because, you know, big organization equals bureaucracy. It's precarious to have no political security. You can protect your current team better from further up. Take it from someone who hasn't spent years outside the inner workings of the Bureau with Interpol."

"Damn!" Emily blew out a very fed up breath. Moving up meant she wouldn't be able to work with the team. She might not even see them most days, especially when they travelled. She would probably get very little field work at all, even if she technically stayed a field agent. It would all be co-ordination and administrative work. Like Scully, she would get all the disadvantages of management style work without actually being FBI management. But if she insisted on staying, would she be blocking the progress of the careers of others in the team?

Scully watched Prentiss's vexation deepen before carefully dropping a bone. "You know," she said dryly, "seeing you and Hotchner, anyone would think that promotion was an immediate sentence to adult diapers and Viagra. It's not. From higher up you can choose to go out with whichever field team is handling any case you think calls for it. It can't be your current team all the time or you'll be pissing in the new unit chief's pond. It can't be _any_ one team all the time. But you'd still get in the field."

Emily cheered up a little. Only a little.

Scully looked back at her with pragmatic lugubriousness. "Sorry, Prentiss, you may not like politics but there comes a time you just have to suck it up and deal if you want to look after your people. Better than a stake in the gut, anyway."

They exchanged a wry look. "I guess I need to talk to Cruz," Emily sighed.

"Do that. Well, do that _after_ you've decided how long you want to stay active in field work. You need to give him an acceptable plan to lobby for on your behalf and the arguments he can use for lobbying. He has no reason to think of them for you."

_Crap. _Emily sighed. "Thank you, Scully."

"Nah ..." Scully waved dismissively and opened the door. "Go on, your honour guard awaits."

Outside, Rossi and JJ fell into step and shadowed Emily a bit more protectively than before. She let them, knowing that hearing about Anghelescu had unnerved them. They might hover for a while but Vlad was nothing now, and they would soon get the worry out of their systems. When she had sorted out what she wanted to do about this threatened promotion, she'd have to tell them about it. _That_ would be a real and present concern for them all.

Chapter 13

Garcia was spending the evening at JJ's house so she could hear all about the break up. JJ had been regretful but not apologetic about her disclosure being only after the fact; regretful that it had been necessary but certain that her choice to do it this way was correct. And she had been open, up to a point.

What it amounted to was that JJ should not have promised Will forever. Nesting instinct might have prompted her agreement to live with him but by the time of their marriage, Henry was getting old enough not to need constant attention and that had made a difference because JJ had discovered with more and more quiet evenings at home with Will that their relationship was unsatisfying. Her abduction and recovery from it had put a pause on addressing it. But then Emily came back and Tara was becoming a friend, and the team was expanding. Finally she'd had to admit to herself that she'd rather spend time off with her teammates than her husband. She and Will had talked and he'd confessed to missing his friends and family in New Orleans so neither could see things improving for them as a married couple. Hence the separation and planned divorce.

The conversation had continued with JJ gently and lovingly asking Garcia to refrain from excessive commentary when delivering information in case the delay made a difference in saving a victim. She'd stilled Garcia's incipient panic at having caused harm already with steady calm, pointing out that Hotch and Emily were far too responsible to have allowed her to let it go too far.

The night had ended with JJ insisting that Garcia not try to set her up with anyone else.

Garcia had accepted all the advice and the strictures, making the necessary adjustments in her mind without much heartache. Now, tucked up comfortably in JJ's guest bedroom, she was pleasurably occupied with something far more interesting - because it was soooo obvious that JJ had left out a massive chunk of _something_!

How had she gone from preferring to spend some time with the team instead of Will straight to divorce? That was just ridiculous. No, somewhere along the way JJ had fallen out of love with Will or had recognized that she never had been in love with him at all.

Garcia was convinced that what JJ was withholding was the reason for that and that it was a someone, someone JJ didn't want to be held responsible for the break up of her marriage, maybe because he really wasn't responsible because JJ had only had her eye on him but hadn't actually done anything about it, or maybe because JJ was just being generally protective of him. It _had_ to be someone else, because why else keep quiet about it?

JJ had always seemed curiously lacklustre about dating, even from the start. Between that and her principled approach to life, Garcia couldn't believe that she would have been unfaithful to Will. Besides, with Henry around and needing her at night whenever she was here, when would she have had the time?

But if she had finally become interested in someone else, that would have got her thinking. And if it got strong enough ... yes, it was exactly the sort of reason to give JJ at least a part of the motivation to leave Will, or support the decision so that she was not heartbroken, which she obviously wasn't.

But then, if this someone else were a complete stranger, why _not_ tell Garcia? No one would have held it against her. Maybe she was afraid to jinx it. But the possibility that the someone else was known to them, perhaps on the team itself, wouldn't erase itself from Garcia's mind because ... yes, then it _would_ be sensitive and JJ clamming up about it would make complete sense. Plus, who else did she spend time with? Between work and Henry, JJ's 24 hours a day were fully accounted for.

Matt was happily married. Rossi was about to be and was anyway on too much of an avuncular footing towards the rest of team. Alvez had a girlfriend. But Reid now … JJ had known Reid a long time and their closeness had waxed and waned over the years. Garcia planned to keep an eye on that.

...

In her own bed, JJ was mulling over the day's stomach-turning revelations about Anghelescu (may he burn in a mountain of camel turds in every one of the nine levels of hell – Afghanistan had left its mark), which had left Rossi impotently furious and JJ not much better. To think they had believed that Ian Doyle had been Emily's worst nightmare.

JJ didn't think Emily was dating anyone but she didn't know for certain. Emily had said Marc was coming to visit when she was offered the unit chief position. But she'd never brought him round to be introduced and she wasn't talking about him anymore. Garcia wasn't nosing into her private life at JJ's own behest and it was entirely in character that Emily would keep that private life private, just as JJ herself did ...

In fact JJ had never really been interested in dating before. She was blessed by being attractive enough that dates sought her out so she'd only ever had to decide whether to be receptive or not. It was expected of her, so she'd accepted enough dates not to seem suspicious in this society for a young, healthy and good looking adult who wasn't a recluse. At some point, she'd even bought into societal expectations and, worried about her own lack of enthusiasm, started casting her eye over women - only to feel just as flat for them as she did with men. Annoyed with the whole thing, she had simply accepted that this was the way she was and hoped that one day she might meet someone who made her feel different. Will had not. She hadn't put that much effort into seeing even him, merely having been responsive to his efforts until the pregnancy and the bomb scare had respectively caused her to agree to them living together and then getting married.

So her interest in Emily was a new thing and JJ had hugged it to herself for a while, revelling in the private relief, the knowledge that she _was_ normal, even if this had come rather late in life. She'd had time to do this before the separation. It was a good reason not to do anything about it. And then Will was gone - but then the reason for the break up was that the lack of foundation in the relationship was unfair to all of them. Deciding to break up was not a decision to pursue anything with ... anyone. It just meant she _could_, not that she _would_. Doing something about it was an altogether intimidating prospect – and JJ disliked the sense of tackiness that came with going from one person immediately to pursuing another.

Still ... it _was_ sort of natural to have invited Emily to spend more time with her and Henry now, wasn't it? And then they'd talk about personal stuff more and more and get closer and closer and then maybe ...

But that vague 'plan' (such as it was) would take time, and JJ was seriously disliking the thought that Emily was alone tonight with the ghost of Vlad Anghelescu, that there was no one there to kiss her slowly and tenderly all over, no one to be absorbed by the wonder of her and give her devoted looks that assured her she was treasured and wanted and _not_ alone. No, she really didn't like that thought at all.

Chapter 14

The BAU's next case took them all the way to California. Rossi and JJ each found it difficult to let Emily out of their sight even though Emily was her usual self throughout the two days it took to close the case. The last night was a long one. The team hung out at the police station waiting for local LEOs to get a bead on the perp after he had been profiled and then identified. Everyone but Emily had taken turns to nap on chairs in the precinct before the final confrontation in the late morning resulted in the capture and arrest of their target.

The long flight home in the afternoon was excruciating. Reid had caught onto Rossi and JJ's concern for Emily, so he was inchoately worried about her too. For reasons best known to himself, his solution was to engage her in discussing social commentary on Star Trek at _interminable_ length as the others cast progressively more desperate glances at each other.

Emily's sleepless night and the passing of her adrenalin rush from the takedown had left her sleepy but not strung out, the perfect recipe for Morpheus's call to take effect. She was just saying, "But the main point of The Measure of a Man was against discrimination in general ..." when she actually fell into a snooze mid-sentence, dropping into sudden silence. Reid only blinked and then politely started reading quietly so as not to disturb her.

Relieved, everyone else started doing their own thing.

This lasted for a full hour before Emily awoke from her catnap without anyone noticing.

They noticed, however, when the cabin suddenly came alive with her voice saying,"... and not just about androids. Data was a vehicle for the producers' commentary on blind discrimination against anyone in society for any quality they inherently possess."

The entire team turned to stare. Reid was as amazed as the rest but, unlike the rest, terribly thrilled. He took up the conversation again as if it hadn't been interrupted.

By the time he was saying, "... The Drumhead has always been a cautionary tale to me because I get obsessed too and I need a reminder not to carry it too far ...", no one else could stand it anymore.

"LALALALALALA ...," Matt shouted, covering his ears.

At the same time, Tara erupted, "Oh my god, will you two stop before we all go insane? You're carrying it too far right now!"

Emily and Reid stared at them, apparently shocked by this rudeness.

"But ..." Reid began.

"Ah!" Luke held up an admonitory forefinger at him.

"What ..."

"Ah!"

"We're being ganged up on," Emily informed him seriously.

"Too right you are," JJ said smartly. "Luke and I wanna talk about the World Cup. And we should decide about dinner. We'll be landing at 7pm."

"The World Cup?" Emily scoffed. "All _he _talks about is Lionel Messi." Having lived much of her youth in soccer-mad countries, she was actually a competent spectator of the sport, if not an avid one.

JJ looked at the insulted Luke. Luke looked at JJ. With one accord they stood up.

"Uh oh," said Reid with apprehension.

"Be strong, Reid!" Emily yelped in high delight. "We have to ... uffff!" JJ sat on her, pinning her hands to prevent defensive manoeuvres. She needn't have bothered. Emily was giggling far too hard to attempt anything.

Across the table, in lieu of sitting _on_ him, Luke sat right up in front of a thoroughly discomposed and germaphobic Reid, closely following when Reid retreated into the window and corralling him with his bulk. He held up a cupped hand in patent threat of laying it directly on Reid's mouth should the genius try to speak again.

"I believe," Rossi interjected smoothly, "we were discussing dinner?"

"I don't think His and Her Royal Nerdinesses should have a say," JJ opined, to vigorous nods from everyone but the now invisible sittees-upon. "Okay, the usual choices. Italian, Chinese, Indian. All in favour of Italian, raise your hands ..."

...

A half hour later, Reid finished wiping himself down with antibacterial wet tissues and hand sanitizer in the bathroom, just in case. In solidarity with each other, he and Emily began a chess game. Silently.

Across the aisle, JJ entertained herself by watching them with a minatory air lest they started talking about Star Trek again. God, she loved these two!

It was interesting to see how, even sitting and playing this quiet game, Reid gave the impression of constant restless motion even though he wasn't actually moving all that much. Maybe it was his untamed hair that looked so ready to fly off in different directions. He moved his pieces abruptly and jerkily. Like a young horse, he was still gangly and a little uncontrolled when he wasn't focused on his movements the way he was when shooting.

In contrast Emily was the picture of tranquility: no hand flapping, no nervous twitches, no reflexive white-knuckled gripping, no unconscious reaching out and drawing back, no uncertainty at all. Emily's hands and fingers went exactly where she wanted them to go and exerted exactly the pressure she wanted them to exert.

That thought formulated itself as JJ watched Emily hold the round head of a pawn between her thumb and the side of her index finger and roll it minutely back and forth while Spencer waited in suspense for her next move.

...

JJ was suddenly in the restroom, with no conscious memory of getting there from her seat. She was experiencing a hot flash. The instant the thought about Emily's hands was complete in her mind, she'd had no warning at all before her hindbrain simply and treacherously took over. It had autopiloted her into hiding because her body had bypassed desire and gone for straight out arousal and suddenly JJ was flushed and so damned awkward about it that she momentarily pretended to _herself_ that she needed a piss so she had an excuse to clean herself up.

The idea that she had spent years married to someone who had never elicited a response close to this from her at her most worked up, that she had spent her entire life up to now in the mistaken belief that she understood sex and sexual attraction and had a decent sexual history, _that_ was discomfiting.

She was torn between terror and glee. Remembering how warm and firm and vital and ... and deliciously, mysteriously _curvy_ ... EmiIy had felt when she'd sat on her was ridiculous and scary and embarrassing and so goddamn exciting that JJ didn't know _what_ to do with herself and she hadn't seen this coming and it was all Emily Prentiss's fault!

JJ spent the rest of the flight clasping her hands tight under the table and assiduously _not _looking at Emily.

...

Dinner that evening compounded JJ's turmoil.

An old friend of Emily's from her youth in Europe was in town for the night and called to inform her of that. At Emily's invitation she had come by the restaurant (Chinese had been the democratic choice unendorsed by the two denied suffrage) to say hello because there was no other opportunity for them to meet. They'd done the European double cheek kiss JJ had seen in Paris for the short time she'd been there years ago to give Emily alternate identities and money.

In the US people kiss you _once_ on the cheek either in real affection or in a formal display of affection. The kiss to both cheeks isn't commonly seen. But this woman got to do it because she wasn't American and JJ thought she was standing closer to Emily than was warranted and that the kisses were more tender than they should be and bam! There she was, back in the restroom hiding out, because she was convinced they had once been lovers on evidence that was probably imaginary and she was _envious _of that stranger and angry at the possibility that they might hook up again even if for just one night_. _It took a surprising amount of determination to quash the voice of the tiny Neanderthal on her shoulder screaming '_Kneecaps, maim! Jugular, kill!'_

She went back out with just enough willpower to put on a reasonable facsimile of calm for the time needed to make the excuse that Henry was testy and she needed to leave to be with him. And now she was implicating her unwitting child in deception. JJ was so _over_ this. The prospect of going through life being so ... so twitter-brained, of instinctively loathing everyone that Emily greeted in a friendly fashion, was irrational, ridiculous and unacceptable.

Ideas about being content with admiration and longing from _afar_, or of the gradual-to-imperceptible baby steps approach, vanished into thin air. For months now, her personal appreciation of Emily had been about things big and small; it had been about warmth and trust, kindness and compassion, respectfulness and loyalty, intelligence and wisdom, all qualities they shared and extended to each other. It had also been about how cute it was when Emily took her first sip of a now-rare coffee and closed her eyes in bliss, or the air of romantic mystery about her when she stared contemplatively out the window of the jet (probably thinking about her grocery list), or the potency of her unintended bedroom eyes when she was observing whoever she was talking to or playing cards or chess with. But that appreciation had never crossed the line from sensual to outright randy. Until now. Now it was so terribly inappropriate - but so impossible to ignore.

She _had_ to do something less equivocal than suggest that Emily come over more often for some Henry time, which had hardly been any kind of statement of interest that Emily could have picked up on.

Faced with the prospect of supremely awkward hiding to be done and consequent questioning from any of her eagle-eyed team members to be endured, and with a conundrum to solve, JJ took a couple of personal days to hide legitimately and work out what to do.

Because whatever it turned to be, _she _was the one who had to it because she had married a man and had his son and remained married to him for years. There was no way it would ever occur to Emily Prentiss that anything was possible between the two women.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 15

Derek Morgan was a contented man. He got the fun of tearing down houses and building them back up better than before. He got to make a good profit from his work, enough to put a down-payment on the next house, buy renovation materials and still have plenty left over to contribute to the household. His family life was all that he could have wanted it to be. He didn't deserve Savannah of course, but what sane person complains about getting better than he deserves? He got to see Garcia and the rest of the BAU team now and then, and he and Savannah had made a habit of having JJ's family round to lunch once every so often and vice versa.

After he had left the BAU, JJ and he reverted to a warmth and good humour that he recognized from how they had been in the very beginning. It was only then that he realized JJ must have had professional issues with him for years and had succeeded in concealing that from him and everyone else on the team, including Garcia, all this time. It was embarrassing that after so long as a profiler, he hadn't had an inkling. However it was also clear now that JJ had never had any personal issues with him and was able to distinguish easily between the two. So her previous beef, whatever it was, was now irrelevant or she thought telling him would do more harm than good. He respected her enough to trust her judgment on this and anyway, no one could make Jennifer Jareau reveal anything she didn't want to except possibly under _very_ prolonged and severe torture.

So he contented himself with the privilege of her present friendship. Even so, he and JJ hadn't really talked one on one for any length of time recently. Thus it was a surprise when she asked if she could call round one evening to speak to him in confidence. He took her to his study.

"What's up, JJ?"

"I need to ask you about something personal but only if you can swear to keep this conversation private between us. You can't talk about it to anyone, not even Garcia, not even Savannah. Can you do that?"

Morgan was tempted to make it a condition that they hash out those old professional issues, but that would have been petty. The JJ before him now was not the JJ of fifteen years ago that he had blithely treated like a little sister. This JJ was in every sense an equal. Besides, friends did not take advantage of other friends in need and Morgan always tried to be an honourable man.

"I swear."

JJ hesitated then firmed her jaw. "Is there anything you can tell me about Emily's dating preferences?"

Morgan goggled.

"I'm not asking to you break a confidence," JJ hurried to explain. "But the two of you must sometimes have talked about things that she didn't share with Garcia and me. Those things might not all have been in confidence, or there might have been something you observed, you might have seen one of her dates or something."

"Wait, are you trying to set her up with someone? 'cause you know, lead balloon much?" He shook his head. "Her mom tried that during her younger years and she hated it. I know your motives have to be much better, JJ, but sometimes meaning well isn't enough. She's gonna react badly no matter why you do it."

JJ shook her head, shifted uncomfortably and looked down. She drew a line back and forth with her toe and blushed. No one needed formal study of behavioural analysis to interpret _this_. Morgan's jaw dropped.

"Shut _up_, Morgan!" JJ hissed fiercely and pre-emptively.

He put up his hands. "May I at least ask about Will? I saw at the funeral you're not together anymore."

"Divorce. Uncontested. He's living in New Orleans. We're both happy."

"Okay. Wow." He stared at her.

"Stop it, okay? It's bad enough that this is happening to me at all."

"Hey," he said kindly, "I'm not gonna tease, JJ, no matter how much I'm tempted."

She smacked the back of his hand very lightly.

He grinned. "No, really, I'm not. You want to know, if you ask her out, is Prentiss gonna freak? Is that right?"

JJ sighed and nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. And whether there's any chance she might be receptive to me in particular."

Morgan sat back and looked at her. He seemed to be ruminating on something. He ended up saying, rather too non-committally for JJ's taste, "Well, Prentiss is kinda laid-back about people's sexuality, y'know? So long as it doesn't involve kids, animals or lack of consent, I really don't believe she cares what or who anyone does in bed."

"That's true for all of us, Morgan," JJ pointed out. "If it weren't, we'd have no business doing what we do."

"Okay, but I think it's true for her on a personal level too. Now I come to think about it, there was one time we were on stake-out …," he frowned as he tried to clarify the memory, "… yeah, we were pretending to drink at a bar and a woman came up and made a pass at Prentiss which she declined. Now of course we were working so she could never have accepted but the relevant point here is, she never turned a hair. Not the trace of a blush even when I teased her about it."

"That proves nothing other than general tolerance and the fact that she's had experience turning women down," JJ said gloomily. "She's always been a cool customer."

Morgan wasn't finished. "And another time, we were really drinking, just shooting the breeze after work, and a couple came up and propositioned us both. Of course we laughed about it afterwards but at the time, even I was kinda shocked. But again Prentiss acted like it was normal to receive offers like that even though she refused them too. I think it'd take a lot to freak her out, JJ, and that you being a woman isn't even in the ball park to do it."

He thought some more and sighed. "Yeah. Honestly, you being a team member is gonna be more of a problem. See, Prentiss has a definite no-fly zone. In it are those she thinks of as her mother's kind of people and anyone in her own chain of command. She lumps everyone in that no-fly zone in a mental taboo as untouchable as incest."

"So did I," a dispirited JJ remarked. "Damn, it's not surprising but I'd still hoped against hope to be wrong about that."

"Oh now, wait a minute. That just means it won't have _occurred _to her to think of any of us as date material. Doesn't mean she won't if her attention is drawn to it. Means you have to take the initiative. Express an unambiguous interest."

"No," JJ was determined to be depressed. "It also means she'll say no."

"I disagree," Morgan said. "Is it gonna be a surprise? Sure. But you know why she won't dismiss it out of hand, why she might consider making you an exception to the rule? First, you really respect each other. Secondly, you both like each other a lot and you have for years. You of all people would never make a move on her with shallow intentions, not with Henry to worry about, not after everything you've been through together. She'll know it's not just a crush. I mean, I'm right, aren't I? After all this time, and given how well you know each other, it can't just be a crush."

JJ nodded vigorously.

"Okay, so she'll know to take it seriously and with Will gone, she'll know she can. The only thing I have absolutely no idea about is the chemistry between you. It's never jumped up to make itself noticed, which could mean it's just not there, or it could mean it was there but neither of you were paying attention to it. You'd make a great couple though, that I _can _see, and you've both spent these years establishing a really good relationship already. It only wants a zing in it to become more.

Just because you've never had that before – well, people quite often only truly love someone they really know and trust. Cautious people only truly trust when they have _reason_ to trust, not when they just feel they can, and that kind of reason can be years in the making. Only when you have it can you truly let go with that person. Maybe the zing wasn't attended to before because you were working together and getting to know and trust each other properly, and then there was Will to stop it from ever occurring to your conscious mind … maybe you were falling in love all this time and it took until now to solidify, for you to recognize and accept it. What I'm saying, JJ, is that if you're sure about what you're feeling, go for it. Because let's face it, the only way Emily will even think to process this from such a surprising source is for you to get serious with her. Let her know what she's missing."

JJ visibly cringed. "I know, I have to take the first step."

Morgan tried to encourage her. "Okay, look. We know she's tough and focussed as all hell but I've never known her to be cruel or mean-minded even towards the worst of our perps. The most I've seen from her is anger and it was always well-deserved. And you're you. You already love each other. So even if she shoots you down, it won't be horrible, JJ. It'll be her mission to make sure you two can still work together and be friends. She'll find a way. And there's a really great bright side for you to look on if you get your way ..."

JJ looked at him, hoping for comfort.

He grinned, "I bet you anything you like that Princess is _amazing_ in bed."

JJ went hot all over in a full body flush. Morgan laughed.

"How the hell would you even know that?" she squeaked, trying for outrage but only succeeding in sounding really interested. "Or even think about it?"

"Easy there! I _don't_ know it, but as a guess, I feel fairly certain. It's in the confidence. I was a player for a long time, remember? I know the difference between someone who talks themselves up to bolster their own confidence and someone who is so secure they don't need a confidence boost. That's how Prentiss strikes me. She was nervy about _dating_, about not geeking out at the wrong time – and that's another point in your favour: she doesn't have to worry about that with you - but the stuff that comes once a date has _been_ successful? No worries at all, that one."

"Oh," JJ was trying to fight her flush down.

They looked at each other and, weirdly, dissolved into mutual giggles. It tickled JJ no end to be sharing with this most masculine of her friends a girl talk moment unsurpassed by any she had ever enjoyed with her female friends.

Savannah chose then to knock, open the door and poke her head in, presumably to offer refreshments. She looked at her husband, then at JJ, opened her mouth, closed it, shook her head and popped out again, all in silence.

They laughed harder.

At last JJ was able to say, "All right, thank you, Morgan. Got any tips from your player days?"

He was pensive for a long moment. Then he held up a finger for her to wait and fiddled with his computer keyboard and mouse for a minute before he sat back.

"JJ, do you remember years ago we went to Ohio? SWAT went in but we had to clear the next building. Two perps; after that … cyclist, smashed window, paramedics, pain meds … ring a bell?"

JJ took a second to think. "Vaguely," she said. "The sedatives really knocked me out."

"Well ..." he hummed, "... actually not right away. I ... ummm ... starting recording you on my phone in the car because you were cute and I thought you'd have a laugh at yourself afterwards ... but well, it kind of developed after that. I can play it for you but first, you have to promise that after you hear it, you won't leave this room until we've talked about it."

Hesitantly, worried now, JJ said yes with furrowed brow.

Morgan played the recording. After the final door slam, he stopped it and waited.

"Oh my God!" JJ was appalled. "Oh my GOD!"

"That ... was pretty much everyone's reaction," Morgan said.

"Oh my _GOD_!" JJ's voice was muffled because her face was now in her hands.

"We didn't tell you," Morgan went on, "because this sort of thing is supposed to be private and you had Will and Henry. Emily thought it would be wrong for any of us to make use of your ... how did she put it? ... diminished responsibility, and we were all afraid of breaking up your family."

JJ was rocking back and forth, an endless litany of _ohshitohshitdamndamndamn _going on in her head.

Morgan said firmly. "JJ! Listen to me! Right now!"

JJ stopped rocking and peered out fearfully between her fingers.

Morgan opened his hands. "So you thought Emily was attractive. So what? Lots of people do, including people on our team, and none of us acted on it either. Reid thought you were attractive and didn't really pursue it. Hell, _I_ thought you were both attractive but I never wanted to try it on with either of you. Emily probably went through the same kind of thing. We're all human. You aren't an exception, you are just like the rest of us. "

JJ calmed.

"The point is," Morgan continued, "Emily won't be surprised about the attraction now. What _will_ surprise her is that it's lasted and that you realize it and want to follow it up. That was why _I_ was surprised just now. I thought you never would. But then, it's not such an awkward hill you have to climb, you see?"

"I guess ..." JJ said doubtfully.

"Look, the last thing you want is to do it player-style. This is Emily 'what are you wearing? A gun?!' Prentiss we're talking about. Taking something out of someone else's playbook for picking up strangers? No way. It'll just be hokey. You gotta come across the way you are, that this is real to you. For that, I got nothing."

"But when you and Savannah ..."

"That's just it, JJ." He looked at her earnestly. "That was us, what was real to _us_. Doesn't apply to other people. At least not in the details. The principle is to be real for _you_."

...

Chapter 16

Luke Alvez was the newest profiler in the premier team. In fact he had started only with particular practical expertise in the parts of behavioural analysis he used to track a target – an _identified_ target. The rest of the spectrum of behavioural analysis, and the theoretical use of it applied to profiling unknown subjects, was all new and he'd had to work hard to cover the ground.

So he was thrilled to discover that there was one thing he could do that no one else on the team of elite profilers could. He had a preternaturally accurate sixth sense about people's sexual orientation. The others had to look deliberately for cues that told them the answer. Luke didn't know what subliminal clues his brain received and processed, but he simply prickled with instinctual awareness whenever he felt the wish to identify which way someone leaned, and then he just _knew._

He'd proven it in practice too, on several cases, and the others had gradually come to rely on his pronouncements: "he's on the extreme end of gay but repressed enough to act convincingly straight to most people", or "he's straight and phobic."

This had been cemented during their last case with, "he's bi and pretty active at it" and "she's repressed in every way from some kind of very conservative background so she doesn't have a clue _what _she is, but she's straight". He had been proven right in every instance when further investigations (some, necessary ones, by the team; others, less necessary, by Garcia alone) had yielded proof of his opinions.

It was a god-given talent and so nothing to be proud of. It wasn't as if he'd worked at it. But all the same Luke was very pleased indeed to be able contribute something no one else could.

...

The team went for drinks to celebrate closing the case. Late in the evening when everyone was well buzzed, JJ loped over and slumped into the chair next to Luke. By now, he'd had enough experience to see, even half tanked, that her ever-so-casual air was planned. He cudgeled his brain into greater awareness.

"So ... Mr Sexual Orientation Whisperer," JJ slurred, "do the team, why don't you?"

Not a moniker that rolled off the tongue. At all. Luke winced. "Why would I do that?"

JJ waved a hand. "Oh, for fun. C'mon."

"We're not supposed to profile each other," he said virtuously.

JJ stared incredulously. "Luke, we're not writing up a detailed treatise on everyone's complete psychological make-up here. That's what the rule is about. Reading people around you, that's something every human on the planet does, whether they have our training or not. We're just better at it. We don't require carpenters to live outside the workshop with one hand tied behind their back, so why would we require each other to be wilfully blind outside of case work? How would that even work?"

Luke absorbed this with a sense of enlightenment. "Huh." He also noticed that JJ was a good deal more sober than she was pretending to be.

"So, c'mon." JJ waved a hand wildly again.

"Hmm … quid pro quo, peaches. You gotta tell me _your_ opinion about them. We'll compare. I mean, you've known most of 'em longer than I have. Some a _lot_ longer."

"Okay," JJ agreed at once.

Rather eager there. "And you pick the order."

"All right, then ... hmm ... Rossi first. Straight all the way?"

"Yup," Luke nodded. "Very much at the end of the spectrum, but not phobic at all. No one on the team is so I won't keep repeating that."

"Okay ... Matt ... the same, what with the wife and kids at all."

"Mmmmm ...," Luke mused, his eyes half-closed.

"What?"

"Yes, he is ... now. When he was much younger, maybe a bit less. Man's a looker. Gay guys'd be all over that. He'd've got expressions of interest. And he wouldn't have discouraged that in any mean way. Beyond being flattered, he'd'a been a little thrilled. But even then he was straight enough not to feel the need or desire to experiment. So yeah, like Rossi, but just a shade off."

"Wow," JJ said with new respect. She had abandoned all pretence of being even a little bit drunk.

"Yup," Luke exaggeratedly polished his fingernails on his shirt.

"Tara? She seems straight to me."

"Pretty much. She thinks of herself as pretty straight. But if a woman she really liked made a serious play for her, she'd consider it. Probably wouldn't say yes the first time, maybe not the second, but the third ... depending on the circumstances, she might." Luke smiled into his beer.

"Fascinating," JJ said, and looked like she meant it.

But before they could go further, the others gathered round and the party broke up. After that, there was little opportunity for them to talk for days.

Luke smirked to himself. He was beginning to see his way. The fact that JJ had asked the question at all, the order in which she'd chosen to discuss the team members, the voice with which she had spoken of each one, all told him a lot more than she would have liked, had she but known. Actually, she probably _did_ guess that, but she wanted answers more than she minded. So right now, she was frustrated because they had never got to the _real_ question she wanted answered. Luke wondered mischievously whether she was impatient enough to engineer an opportunity to carry on their conversation without waiting for a natural one. Or if she'd get to the point where she simply didn't care.

He was terribly fond of JJ but she was just so proper that being able to torment her a little bit and drive her slightly unhinged was just ... delicious.

Yup, he was gonna go straight to hell for this.

...

At the next team drinks evening, JJ plumped into the seat opposite Luke with an 'at last!' air. She rested her elbows on the table and leaned forwards. Luke grinned at her.

"Okay, you know what this is."

"I do," Luke's grin widened as JJ's eyes shot open in alarm and she made a shooshing gesture. _She_ had spoken in a conspiratorial whisper, clearly not wishing to be overheard. Now that he'd got his first five cents' worth of fun, Luke leaned forward obligingly and lowered his voice. There was, after all, a lot more to come.

"Do Garcia," JJ urged.

"Quid pro quo ..." he reminded her, just to keep her waiting.

"She's out there, but square," JJ hissed, blatantly annoyed.

"Yup, that's it. Straight as, but loves the variety in people around her," Luke confirmed.

"Reid."

_Aha!_ It had been a toss-up who would be next. In his elation at getting his answer, he threw out a small bonus, answering before JJ provided her opinion. "He's bi but mostly inactive. Doesn't meet a lot of people that appeal to him and he's not great on self-confidence in approaching the few who do."

"That's amazing!" JJ breathed, eyes round.

He waited, keeping a straight face with immense difficulty.

"Emily?" JJ's voice went a little high, try as she might to keep it normal.

His poker face nearly failed him but somehow he managed to keep it up.

"Oh, now ..." he wagged his head. "She's our boss. I don't think I should ... I'm still the new guy, you know. Don't want to get into trouble."

JJ reached out, grabbed him by the collar and hauled him to her. She snarled into his ear, "I can sneak round to your place every day and feed Roxy extra ... lots and _lots_ extra ... until she's _fat_ ..."

Luke gasped. "You'd make my _dog_ suffer for my sins? She's totally innocent!"

"Luke!" JJ growled.

A shadow approached. JJ let go.

It was Emily, passing by on her way back from the restroom. As her gaze fell on them and their attitude, her lips twitched and one dark eyebrow crawled upwards.

JJ's smile was so self-conscious, so falsely innocent, that Luke very nearly lost it.

Emily vanished into the crowd.

JJ gave him a hard stare.

"Spill, Alvez."

"Why do you want this so much, anyway?" Luke affected puzzlement.

"We've done the whole team," JJ said tightly. "Gotta make it complete."

"True, but you didn't threaten my dog over Reid or Garcia, and you've known _them_ even longer," Luke pointed out. He was enjoying himself far too much.

"You weren't holding out on me about _them_." JJ's eyes were getting dangerously narrow.

"I don't know ..." Luke said, putting a reluctant expression on his face. He was playing with fire and he knew it.

"Fine! It's _because _I _have_ known her forever and I _still_ don't have a clue because she doesn't talk about stuff like that and it's _killing_ me not knowing," JJ caved and confessed. "And I expect you're guessing why." Her voice hardened. "I can't stop you doing that, but if you say or do _anything_ that upsets the dynamics of the team ..."

Luke held up his hands in promise and surrender. Enough was enough anyway. He now had the whole reason she had started this and though he might be impish, he had no cruel bone in his body.

He considered carefully what to say. Emily had promised him that she wouldn't tell anyone else about his time with the Rangers and she had kept her promise, for no other reason than that she understood the need for privacy. She gained nothing from it except his goodwill. So revealing something about _her_ to another person went very much against the grain. On the other hand, every quivering line of JJ's body was telling Luke how momentous this knowledge would be to her ... maybe it would end up being equally momentous to Emily, in a good way. He had to cross his fingers that this came to pass. He would never forgive himself if he caused harm by saying something his moral conscience told him he really shouldn't.

"Not gonna do anything, JJ. But I need your solemn word that you won't tell anyone else what I tell you. Also, I'm only considering this because I know that you would never intend harm to any of us, but I still need to hear it from you."

JJ gave her word on both counts with desperate seriousness.

He lowered his voice further.

"All right, listen. She's physically okay either way but she's less nervous with the ladies. You could see it just from the first time we met. So she'd find it easier to go beyond the early stages with a woman. She's largely inactive these days, like Reid but for different reasons. Work, maybe. But when she was younger, I reckon she was out there. Woman's got experience and she's not shy about it. I mean, you gotta have noticed that, right? It's in the way she carries herself, the way she has when she's being personal with you. Even when she doesn't intend to tease, anyone talking to her winds up feeling like they're being teased anyway. In a nice way. No one can do that without underlying confidence based on experience."

He was talking about the physical and verbal swagger. JJ nodded with a whole new comprehension. That swagger had become less and less obvious since Emily had taken the unit chief position so Luke was probably also right about her being less active these days.

Luke finished, "And the reason you didn't know after all this time? She's just the really careful type when it comes to choosing who she'd go home with, and she's equally careful not to bring that sort of thing into work."

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"So what'cha gonna do, bi-buster?" Luke smiled at her kindly, his eyes warm.

"I don't know yet," JJ bit her lip. After another pause, she narrowed her eyes at him again, this time playfully. "This doesn't mean we'll be getting together to paint each other's toenails, Alvez."

Luke chuckled because it was a _little_ but funny, but he was willing to bet everything he had that she _did_ know what to do. She just had to summon the courage.

...


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 17

Despite being filled with trepidation, JJ gritted her teeth and decided to pull her big girl socks up and fake it till she made it. One unforeseen advantage of channeling her energies into actively doing something towards her goal was that now her libido had a quasi-outlet, it was no longer quite so frustrated and therefore not so overwhelming as before, especially now that she was getting used to living with it. She could maintain decorous behaviour. The possibility that she might crash and burn helped a lot too.

Her campaign to woo the unsuspecting Emily began small. She put a red apple on Emily's desk one morning.

From the bullpen she watched Emily walk in, spot the apple and cock her head in puzzlement before carefully using an evidence glove to lift the apple by its stalk and inspect it for puncture sites.

JJ sighed. Apparently school pupils in Italy or Egypt or France or Russia who liked their teachers showed it in other ways than by giving them apples. The symbolism was entirely lost on Prentiss. From then on, JJ continued bringing in extra fruit and would personally _give_ Emily a piece that often _wasn't_ an apple and tell her to keep her Vitamin C levels up. Because this was a first step and she was timorous, she camouflaged her intent further by randomly giving one or two other team members fruit as well on the same day but Emily _always_ got one - she had to notice that, surely.

She escalated a couple of weeks later to a modest bag of chocolate, hastily sneaked onto Emily's chair when she was in the restroom and the rest of the team had popped out to get proper coffee. Nobody else was getting chocolate that day so that was a definite message, wasn't it? And not too excessive for the office because these were just Hershey's Kisses, not luxury handmades in over-the-top packaging: the gift could be read in a friendly way as well as a romantic one. So even if Emily sussed out JJ's true intent, she wouldn't be embarrassed or feel pressured into a panicked or extreme reaction. JJ patted herself on the back for thinking of it. She could slink up later and identify herself as the donor, invite Emily to come over sometime this weekend … maybe even make a verbal overture while they were alone in there …

In the bullpen she watched, full of anticipation, as Emily got back from the restroom, paused beside her chair and turned her head to look at one side of the bag, then the other. Evidently she was looking for a note but of course, with slinking in mind, JJ hadn't left one. Emily picked up her desk phone. Within a minute a security guard was taking up position outside her door and JJ suddenly realized with horror that the next step was the mail room mobilizing a scanner to look for explosives or anthrax or whatever the hell else they looked for.

JJ wanted to bury her face in her hands in despair but that would be too odd when everyone else was turning their heads _up _to look at the security guard. She couldn't believe she had been so stupid as to make the same mistake she had with the apple weeks ago – an unidentified gift in a secure building, what had she been _thinking_? Now if she didn't fess up, there would be a full scale lockdown until the chocolate was cleared. If she did, she would be embarrassed as hell. In the end of course, JJ couldn't bring herself to be responsible for needless panic. She scribbled out a quick post-it note under the table and took it with her as she sprinted up. So much for slinking.

"Emily! Sorry, they're from me. I forgot to stick this on." She dorkily waved the yellow note stuck to her forefinger which eloquently said, "From JJ" and wondered how on earth she ever thought she had game.

When Emily had cancelled the alarm, she closed her door and began to chuckle as she opened the bag.

"I'm so embarrassed!" JJ moaned, covering her eyes with her hand.

Emily graduated to a laugh. "You made my day! My waistline might not thank you but I do. Here, have one and take a seat."

When JJ finally peeped out, Emily was smiling kindly. "Seriously JJ, this is great. There's nothing like a sugar boost mid-afternoon. It's why the English take afternoon tea. Thank you!"

JJ blushed and took a chocolate to nibble on, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear.

"So ... thank god it's Friday. What are you and Henry up to this weekend?"

"Oh, the usual ..." JJ waved her free hand. "Park, grocery shopping, ice cream if he's good ... you should think about joining us if you're free."

"Mmmm ..." Emily was silent for a few seconds. "Would you like to come over with him if we don't catch a case? It might be fun for him to see someplace new."

"Yes! ... I mean we'd _love_ that," JJ tried to tamp down her immediate thrill at the prospect of lots of alone time with Emily. _Come on, Jareau, try a little maturity, why don't you? _"I haven't seen your new apartment."

"Oh. Ah. Actually that was nice, cheerier than the old mausoleum was, but only temporary. I've got a house now. I just haven't been announcing it around the office."

"Really? In DC?"

Emily shook her head. "No, it's beyond the suburbs. I've got a bit of land. I even have a driver now, took a page from my mother's book."

"_Really? _I never thought you'd give up the independence of driving. No wonder you've been hogging the driver's seat in the SUVs on site."

"Oh, I still drive during my time off. It's just that the commute's not wonderful, but it's worth it to me to live there. And with the driver, I can get work done or catch up on sleep going to and from work. The personal security allowance the unit chief gets now pays for the driver ... well, that and he and his wife live rent-free in a sort of porter's lodge on the grounds. They maintain the whole place between them and give the house a weekly cleaning. I have an old horse and a couple of dogs now so they look after them too when I'm away. I thought Henry would like to meet the animals, but Bruce and Genna will love him too."

"Oh, wow." JJ reached for a tissue to wipe her fingers. "I didn't know you'd gone all English milord on us."

"I have _not_," Emily asserted with a very attractive twinkle in her eye. "The place is spread out but not at all palatial. So ... how about letting Bruce drive you over and back? All you have to do is bring as many of Henry's toys as you like and his car seat. Means you can drink a bit and really relax. And it gives me and Genna a chance to plot Bruce's surprise birthday party."

"ONLY because of that will I say yes," JJ pointed an accusing finger. "I'm not going to get used to the lifestyle of the rich and famous."

Emily rolled her eyes. "It's hardly that. Wait and see. I speak the truth."

Chapter 18

In a project room, an analyst replayed for Emily a scene showing Sorenson at a pool party.

"Video only, from a day ago," Scully said. "We didn't know about this early enough to get an ear in there. We were lucky even to get the video. One of the directors has a friend whose house provided this view. House in the video belongs to a Microsoft executive. We don't think she's involved. But the dweeb in the red swim shorts is one Devon Englund ... gee, think his parents hated him on sight?"

Emily smiled.

"Englund's a lecturer in geography by day and a small time sleaze and freelance arms dealer the rest of the time. Handguns and automatics. Not really on Sorenson's scale of activity, so they shouldn't be talking, but they are. What's that tell you?"

"Englund thinks this could be his break into the big time," Emily answered. "He has a buyer. Someone who wants the kind of shipment Sorenson would finance."

"Snap. We think that too. We had a lipreader write a transcript." Scully handed over a copy. "What I need from you is to read it and watch the playback for anything that tells you something different. I have a funny feeling things aren't what they seem."

Emily did as requested. "Wait. Pause there." She pointed. "Who's the redhead with the boob job Englund seems to be making cow eyes at?"

Scully flipped through her file. "An ... Isabel Patterson. Why?"

"Because he's not really making cow eyes at her. He's looking for approval. He looks at her each time the conversation reaches a point of substance. See, here they discuss the goods ..." she waited for the playback to advance, looking between it and the transcript, "... here pricing ... here date, ... here delivery method. Each time he looks at her. With that kind of consistency, it's not because of her bikini."

"I'll get deeper background run on her," Scully said. "Thank you, Prentiss."

"Not a problem." Emily hesitated. " ... you _do_ realize she's probably not the buyer either?"

Scully frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"Watch her eyes. Every so often, they go unfocused for a second. Like she's not paying attention to what's in front of her. Like she's listening. Those earrings ..." Prentiss shook her head, "... don't match her bikini so why wear them to a pool party? Bet you one of 'em's a wire. Transcript doesn't set out what she says."

"We only asked for Englund and Sorenson's lips to be read," Scully said. "I'll get on that too."

Emily nodded and pointed again. "Body language is wrong too. During early negotiations, buyers who aren't acting for a national sovereign, who don't have anyone to answer to but themselves, tend to be more relaxed. They're the ones with the money. This is a pool party and there's nothing incriminating going on if no one can hear or record what Englund and Sorenson are saying. There's plenty of ambient noise to make a clear recording difficult and from the transcript, they're not being explicit anyway. Their conversation wouldn't be comprehensible to an innocent eavesdropper as a deal for RPGs and submachine guns. She's tenser than she should be in that context. Her smiles are overdone. She's a wanna-be villain and an amateur. She's not very good and she's being used and is therefore expendable. Whoever the real buyer is, I'm betting he or she is planning an early demise for her, maybe for Englund too. You get Patterson into protective custody just as they're closing in on her and she'll be properly scared into giving you the buyer. But Sorenson was supposed to think he was dealing with Englund. Patterson might have stopped being relevant to the buyer after the party ..."

Scully stared at her for a long moment. Emily shrugged. "This is what I do."

"This is profiling?" Scully shook her head. "Huh. I never really knew, even after Tripp."

"No," Emily said absently. "Behavioural analysis. Profiling is what we do when the subject is still unidentified. It's theoretical. It can't take account of environmental and situational factors because we don't know who the subject is and therefore we don't know his situation. We metaphorically draw the outline of the unsub and hope it's recognizable enough that others, or more work on our part, can fill in his features. Once a subject is identified, by definition profiling stops and behavioural analysis begins. There is a difference. And the last thing you need is right now is a pedant." She gave a chagrined and self- deprecatory smile. "I really don't think you'll need a full psychological work-up on Sorenson after all: you'll tail him and Englund and catch them all at the delivery. But if you need anything else from me, call anytime."

Scully nodded. "Thank you, Prentiss. Now I need Johnson to get eyes on Patterson and find out if she's still alive. Have a good weekend."

...

Emily stared out her bedroom window with a sense of gentle melancholy that had been growing more familiar with each passing day.

When she had accepted the position as BAU chief, something inside her had changed. She had more or less accepted that she was in this area of the world to stay and would most likely be living here for the rest of her life. She realized only now that childhood memories of her grandfather's cabin in the French Alps must have unconsciously influenced her choice of a home. Instead of yet another urban apartment, she had chosen this place for the long term, a place as fit for retirement as it was for present purposes.

Taking herself out of the hum of city life during her time off had also been a marker of a certain resignation that she would probably be single until retirement and possibly beyond. She had known exactly what the job of BAU chief entailed when she accepted it. She had obviously considerably more administrative work to deal with than the regular team members. On top of the demands of office and field work, she had to put in, as all other active field agents did, regular time for PT and firearms and personal combat training. All of this meant little time and energy for a significant other. The very thought of looking for one left her enervated. And for what? Putting the effort into building a relationship with a good and decent person who would only be let down once her schedule, dedication to work and danger attendant on that work became grim reality for that person?

She had vague thoughts of fostering an older child once she did retire, but they were by no means articulated in her mind.

The point was, Emily expected her home life to continue being as solitary as it always had been. There was probably something not entirely healthy about having her teammates also form the majority of her social life but the reality was that she had little choice in the matter, so it was very fortunate that her team members were all such outstanding people and fun to be with.

As she got into bed she smiled to herself. Tomorrow was going to be a good day – JJ and Henry were coming to visit.

It was now weeks since JJ had sat in her office at night and talked about her break up. Since then the two of them had not had much of an opportunity to talk for any length of time. It was mainly down to Emily having been so occupied with dealing with Scully's tip about her impending promotion. Not only had she had to figure out what she wanted to do but she also had had to spend time gathering support from the right people. Doing this discreetly had taken up the scant free time she'd had for a few weeks now.

She felt very bad about that because she'd more or less indicated that she'd like to spend more time with JJ and Henry but then never actually got round to doing that. At the time, Emily had thought that with her mother and Will gone from her life, JJ might want company or cheering up or help with Henry.

But despite Emily not having pitched in as she really wished she could have, JJ seemed remarkably cheerful these days. Garcia, she knew, regularly had Henry time and girl time with JJ. (For a few weeks before and after the separation, JJ had brought Henry to Garcia's instead of having Garcia round to her house but now they had reverted to the usual pattern of alternating their two places for this.) JJ would bring Henry to visit Matt so their kids could play together. In all, she and Henry had a pretty full and varied life already, even without Emily adding to the mix. How JJ found the time and energy to do all that, plus housework and yardwork Emily couldn't think. She made a mental note to ask JJ about the day to day logistics of this.

It was so sweet, and kind of cute, that JJ had had her little fruit kick. A couple of the team members had placed bets on who would get a piece on any particular day. Reid had won the first bet because he had been the earliest to notice that Emily received a piece of fruit no matter who else did or didn't. There had been a bit of teasing about JJ sucking up to the boss, but it had stopped after she'd whapped Luke on the head with a file and asked who else worked the same hours Emily did. Heh. It was very thoughtful and it warmed Emily out of all proportion to the size of the gesture that somebody actually thought about her in the morning while getting ready for work at home and packing lunch. That was _such_ a great thing to a person who had lived alone most of her life.

Yes, it was overdue that she demonstrated that JJ could lean on her metaphorically as well as literally. JJ could not talk to Garcia about the grimmest of her feelings when they were about gruesome aspects of work. So maybe there was something Emily could really contribute after all, being a confidant with whom JJ could share her most gut-wrenching issues. Garcia could be for the light stuff and Emily for the dark. She wasn't sure she was up to the task because such a relationship had to be mutual. In fact, at first she would probably suck at sharing back because she simply wasn't used to speaking her innermost thoughts and feelings aloud. A lifetime of confidential work and solitude in her own home had seen to that. But she wasn't worried about JJ preserving her confidences: JJ had proven she could be a vault when she wanted to be. So maybe Emily _could_ try reaching in as well as reaching out and perhaps with time she'd be better and better at it ..,

Yes. She could do that if she tried and Emily was very fond of JJ indeed, fond enough to do this.

She had not had too much difficulty disciplining herself into never thinking about the Ohio incident because she had not been ruled by animal attraction for a long time. When she decided on a career in law enforcement, the potential embarrassment of becoming a crime statistic herself had been sufficient to put the kibosh on potentially dangerous sexual adventures embarked on simply on the basis of sexual chemistry. She valued her safety, her dignity and her professional career too much to put herself at risk like that.

You can simply decide not to dwell on mere physical attraction, given a teaspoonful of ability for self-abnegation. It's only when mental understanding and emotional attachment are added to the mix that the whole becomes difficult to ignore. So if Emily ever felt a spark of physical attraction to a co-worker, she didn't allow situations to develop during which that could be fostered into more.

This was exactly what she had done with JJ because she _had_ felt that spark early on. And it had been no more difficult than usual because truthfully, there had been ways in which Emily had thought the two of them unsuited anyway, quite apart from them working together. With JJ tied to Will and apparently unconscious of that spark, Emily had grown confident, enough to allow their understanding of each other and attachment to each other to grow until two of the three pillars had been firmly established – because without the third pillar, there could be no danger of that relationship becoming more than friendship, could there?

So it was with that usual confidence, unquestioned for years, that she looked forward to the morrow, crossing her fingers that the team wouldn't be called out before Monday.

...


End file.
